Heavensward
by Praelio
Summary: Jaune Orpheus Arc was not expecting to find a ring from time antiquity imbued with ancient magics unknown, nor did he expect to bind his soul to a line of ancient rulers. Thus, his epic quest was bestowed upon him. With the guidance of his ancestors and strength of allies anew, the Crown Prince must reclaim the Valean throne. Canon-divergent, romantic subplot.
1. Arc I: The Ranger

Arc I, Chapter I

 _The Ranger_

* * *

It was a relatively cool day out, a common occurrence for the northeastern region of the Saunan continent. The early light of dawn was just beginning to rise to the east, showering the nearby forest with a brilliant light glow. A cacophony of various chirps and cries echoed throughout the wooded area, the sound traversing deep throughout. The morning June air was cool and refreshing.

On a well-traveled road, a young man slowly trekked southbound, heading towards the City of Vale.

Stopping in his tracks for a few moments, the boy took a slow and deep inhale of the fresh forest air. He admired the luminescent glow of the forestry around him, awed with its wonderful display of warm hues. Letting a small smile grace his face, he continued his long trek towards the Capital.

' _I really should've tried to hitch a ride down to Vale. This road is pretty safe from the Grimm, but still…'_ He thought to himself. While the creatures of Grimm weren't a huge problem from such an often-used roadway, there was just no way to be completely sure or predict what the Grimm would do. They were creatures of chaos and pandemonium, simple as that. While it would've seemed prudent to have taken his vehicle from home, he was paranoid of his parent's superhuman senses. Sneaking out was something he became very talented at given the large size of his estate and the numerous escapades his sisters pulled him along for.

Taking a short glance behind his back, he wondered if what he was doing was really what he wanted to. Was he _really_ prepared to go to Beacon Academy?

A quick moment later and his resolve was steeled. Once he left, he knew there was no turning back. He made a vow to himself. He wouldn't return home until he had proved to himself and the world that he could be a hero. The faces of his parents flashed across his mind for a scant second, but he quickly pushed the thought away. He couldn't afford to do anything else but move forward now.

His parents, Artorian and Morrigan Arc were legendary world-class huntsmen. His father was revered as a warrior who was built of nothing but sheer will. He was a natural-born leader who had led entire _armies_ in Raids against the Grimm. It was a terrifying thought, if he were to be honest. While Grimm hordes were dangerous, they could be handled quite efficiently by third and fourth-year "rookie" teams from the major Huntsmen Academies.

Raids, on the other hand, were considered the "frontlines" of the war against the Grimm. Seeing as the mindless creatures didn't have anything that would a resemble a base of operations, or even a nest for that matter, they often congregated in the Unknown Regions of the continents and slowly pushed their way to major population centers. Raids were operations that consisted of a multinational coalition of troops and Huntsmen that culled these massive congregations of hordes, or at least attempted to divert them to a more advantageous position.

While he may lack in superb combat skill, Jaune Arc certainly did not lack in knowledge and strategy. It was something he gave a lot of credit towards his mother for.

Morrigan Arc, as Jaune had come to learn over the past seventeen years of his existence, was either your best friend, or was the devil incarnate who came to watch you _burn_. There was only one thing that terrified Jaune more than the Grimm, and that was his mother scorned.

His mother grew up in the Wildlands. They were areas that were too far to consider for settlement, but too close to label as the Unknown Regions. Morrigan was rather quiet about her past, but Jaune knew better than to pry about it. He had often been more enthralled by her tales of exploit that she and his father shared in their younger days.

While not as enrapturing as their tales of exploit, Jaune did like the tales of how his parents founded the settlement of Arkend, Jaune's hometown. It was a massive coastal trade hub that resided along the northeastern coast of Sanus, some sixty to eighty odd miles north of the Capital. It was there where Jaune and his seven sisters lived for all their lives. Well, until some of his sisters grown up and moved out. That was something he was quite thankful for, but he'd never admit it aloud.

Continuing down the path, he thought back to the last time he was in the City of Vale, which coincidentally was also the same time that he got his hands on a set of forged transcripts to enroll in Beacon Academy. They were crucial as he had never attended a preliminary combat school, let alone had any sort formal training from his parents.

* * *

Vale was usually busy, especially in the southern end of the commercial district along the northern river, where Jaune found himself at. Large warehouse-like buildings littered the main waterway, one of two that ran straight through the city. He had been attempting to follow up some leads on where he could obtain some… _"documents"_ and was subsequently directed to a place only known as _Junior's_. Rumors on the streets led him to infer that Juniors, as it were, was quite the wretched hive of scum and villainy.

Thanks to the premeditated distractions his _lovely_ sisters provided for him, (which he most certainly would owe them greatly for later) he had given his family the slip around an hour ago. Promptly after leaving, he made his way east along the riverbank to the raucous club known as _Junior's_. He didn't have to be a genius to note that the men in black suits with red ties were for more than just bouncer duty. The dull and repetitive thud of a bass beat reverberated from the building, reaching as far as his location across the street. Straightening his back and pushing his hair out of his eyes, he proceeded through the front doors to the establishment. The guards at the door spared him a short glance, but he paid them no mind.

The sound of the thudding bass he heard from across the street had intensified tenfold, near-rattling his bones. The club had a rather monotone theme. The dance floor was lit with black and white neon tiles, and the lights overhead strobed about, projecting the same two contrasting colors. Quickly adjusting to the somewhat familiar scene, as he was no stranger to clubs before, he walked over to the bar. He had a fleeting suspicion that the one man whose uniform was much different than that of the "security" would be the man he was looking for.

Leaning against the counter, he shrugged his jacket it off, resting it on the back of the chair. Turning towards the bartender, he gave a lazy two-fingered wave to the bartender, grabbing his attention. The man, with his gruff black beard and short-trimmed hair towered over him at what _had_ to be the lower end of seven feet tall. In two strides the man came to stand in front of Jaune, giving him a somewhat cursory glance.

"Aren't you a little bit on the young side to be here, kid?" The man questioned in a neutral tone.

Jaune shrugged at the man. "A paying customer is a paying customer, aren't they?" He threw back.

The man scoffed and gave a small grin towards the younger boy. "I suppose there's a bit of truth in that, isn't there? What'll it be then, kid?"

Leaning to the side a bit to see past the hulking man, Jaune took a short glance at the large and assorted menu.

"How about a Vale Scotch, neat?" Jaune asked. He fished in his back pocket for his wallet, before grabbing a suitable lien chip to pay with.

Snorting out a chuckle, the man went to work grabbing Jaune's drink. Speaking from over his shoulder, he called out to the young man, "Not one for those fancy sugar-bombs, are we now?"

"I guess there's no such thing as an appreciation for the classics anymore, apparently," Jaune bantered back.

A new voice resonated from behind Jaune, drawing his attention away from the bartender. "I don't know about you, Junior, but I think you got a real gentleman at your bar. Finally, a change from the all sleazebags that stroll through this dump."

Turning his head fully, Jaune expected to see another average Joe like himself. As if the man was born to defy said expectation, the first thing Jaune took note of was the man's flamboyant dress, from the golden buttons on his single-breasted, pristine white coat, the grey scarf tied around his neck, to the black and red-striped bowler hat on his head. This man, with his candle-flame orange hair simply screamed, " _Look at me, I'm fabulous and at the center of attention, and you? You're not."_

It clicked then.

This was Roman Torchwick.

He was ranked a Ranger, Tier _Eight_ by the Huntsman Lodge.

This was a Class-SS criminal.

This was the same man who defeated a team of _eight_ Master Huntsmen in less than four minutes.

 _I don't even have aura… this guy would kill me in half a second flat if I mess this up. Everything I say or do has to be played exactly right, or I won't be walking out of here._

Without missing a beat, Junior shot back at the man, "Well if it isn't Roman Torchwick, drag queen extraordinaire." Junior didn't bother turning around, instead moving to grab a second glass and filling it up with what Jaune assumed was the same drink as his.

Settling into the seat next to him, Roman took off his hat and rested it on the counter. Junior shortly turned around and place Jaune and Roman's drink down in front of them, confirming his suspicion that they were indeed the same drink.

Jaune cast a sideways glance at the man next to him. "Well, drag queen or not, anyone who can appreciate the classics is fine by me." Roman took a quick sip of his drink before letting out a short laugh.

"See Junior? I told you! A _gentleman_!" Roman exclaimed, giving Jaune a friendly pat on the shoulder. Jaune smiled, giving a small shrug at the praise. He took a healthy sip of his drink, enjoying the refreshing taste of it.

"You know kid, I come by these parts a lot, and I've got to say that I haven't ever seen you around here before. You new in town? If so, you sure picked a hell of a dump to start wasting your life away at." Roman said, smirking when he noticed the agitated look on Junior's face.

"Nah," Jaune started, taking a quick sip of his drink before continuing, "Family is visiting the City from our hometown up in Arkend. I gave them the slip a little while ago as I had some… business to attend to while we were here."

"Well, if you're looking to conduct business, there's no two better men in Vale to know than us. Need a hand finding something, Mister…" Junior trailed off, prompting Jaune to formally introduce himself.

"Jaune, Jaune Arc." Jaune introduced, giving a firm handshake to both Junior and Roman before returning to his drink.

"In truth, my business actually led me to your place. Word was that you might be able to help me with what I'm looking for, Mister Junior." Jaune spoke, again taking another sip of his drink.

Junior gave a dismissive wave towards Jaune. "None of that formality with me. Just Hei or Junior is fine with me. Now, what was it exactly that you were looking for that led you to here? You seem like a guy that has a bit of common sense about him, so you obviously know that I'm not your typical businessman."

Jaune hesitated for a moment, taking another sip out of his glass before continuing. "Well, I'm stuck in a bit of a rut. To be honest with you, I was looking to get into Beacon Academy this upcoming semester, but circumstances have left me… woefully unprepared. I need... _assistance_ in obtaining a set of transcripts so that I could have a shot at becoming a student there."

Roman took this as his moment to intervene. "Well, forging a set of transcripts is hardly a big deal but…" he trailed off, giving a thoughtful look to the wall before continuing, "Why is it that you want to go to Beacon?"

Jaune wavered under his gaze for a moment, looking away for a few seconds before returning the older man's stare. "I want to do something with my life, you know? I want to be able to live up to this ridiculous legacy that my parents and grandparents have left for me. I don't want to grow old and have nothing to show for it. As naive as it may sound, I want to be a hero. Someone who helps others and protects his own. I don't even have to a great hero, let alone a good one." Jaune paused, downing the rest of his drink before sliding it towards Junior.

"But another part of me wants to spite my parents. To spit in their faces and tell them that even without their training, I still made it on my own, and I don't need them. I want to become strong on my own. I want them to see me, and I want them to be ashamed for what they did to me. I don't want to be weak anymore." He committed, his voice growing steadier and more resolute as he spoke. Junior placed another glass in front of him, and he had gladly taken a more-than-healthy sip from it.

Roman continued to stare at Jaune, his face neutral, before he closed his eyes and sighed to himself.

"I'll let you in on a bit of a secret, kid," Roman started, pausing to take a sip from his drink, "Back in the day, I went and graduated from Beacon myself. Obviously, things are a lot different nowadays then they were back in my day, what with that corrupt council dragging this Kingdom into ruin, but I'm letting myself get off topic" Roman trailed off, taking a larger sip from his drink and turning back to Jaune.

Roman reached over to Jaune, giving a firm poke to his chest. He gave Jaune a hard look before continuing,

"You've got a certain mentality and fire to you. Something that you don't see in your babied generation. Something you saw back in my day, back when tensions were high from the war, and people had to be tough. You hang on to that conviction, because when _everything_ and _everyone_ leaves you behind, you will have nothing left. Your privilege will be the dirt beneath your shoes, your entitlement the pain you endure. When darkness finds you, and it most certainly will, you _will_ face it. The _only_ thing that will ensure your survival is _yourself_.

Jaune sat silently, mulling over Roman's words in his mind on repeat. Taking a few moments to process the sudden talk he'd been given. He fumbled with his words, before deciding on what he'd wanted to say.

"I'll be sure to be sure to remember this, then." He said, a small smile growing on his face. Never in a million years would he have expected to get such advice from a Huntsman Ranger, even if he was a mastermind criminal. It was at this point where Jaune knew that his decision to walk on his own path was that much more justified and right.

Roman's voice pulled him out of thoughts, "I'll get you those transcripts without a problem, kid." Reaching into the inside of his coat pocket, he grabbed a small red Scroll and handed it to Jaune, "I'll give you a call in a couple days when I've got the transcripts and I'll forward the data for you to deal with." He finished, taking another sip from his drink.

Jaune went fishing in his wallet for what would be a suitable amount of money for the transcripts, but Roman's hand waving him off caught his attention.

"Don't worry about payment. Consider yourself in my favor now, Jaune Arc." Roman said.

"Well, Thank you, I-"

"Don't thank me, kid. If you're thankful, make the most of this gift. You're an old soul, kid, one that you don't see often in your generation. I've got a feeling that you're going to bring about some serious change to this miserable Kingdom, and that's more than enough of a fair investment for me."

Disrupting the moment, a new figure roughly stumbled into the seat to the right of Jaune. Before Jaune could move to speak to the new person, she abruptly raised her one hand at him, effectively silencing him. Pointing to Junior, she lowered her arm, took a deep breath, raised it again, and said with a ludicrous amount of exasperation, "Strawberry Sunrise, no ice, and please for the love of all that's good in this world, make it a kicker"

Not being one to let a lady down, Junior turned around and went diligently to work.

Turning towards Jaune now, the girl, with her wild mane of shining blonde hair, and lightly tinted lavender eyes gave him a look which seemed to say, _"Go ahead, I permit you to speak now."_

Jaune nervously scratched the back of his head, an age-old habit he'd had whenever he was put into a less-than-comfortable situation.

"Looks like you're having an absolutely fantastic day," Jaune chuckled, speaking with no undue amount of sarcasm in his voice.

That was a good conversation starter, right?

Right?

The girl, who he assumed to be around his age, lightly laughed at his poor attempt to start a conversation. "I think that would be a little bit of an understatement, to be honest."

Junior returned and had placed a neon-pink drink in front of the girl, who happily and quickly took it.

She then proceeded down the entire thing in one go.

Jaune nervously chuckled at her antics, seeing that she was most definitely correct when she mentioned that what he said was a complete understatement. Taking a sip of his own drink, he waited for the girl to continue.

"Sorry, I don't think I introduced myself. My name is Yang, Yang Xiao Long, but you can call me sometime if you're lucky." She said, adding a flirtatious wink at the end of it.

Before Jaune could even move to make a witty comeback, he heard an uncouth snort and deep rumble of laughter from behind him, who he could only assume to be Roman.

"Excuse him, he's not completely house trained yet." Jaune said nodding his head back towards Roman, who was violently sputtering out his drink. Junior had slammed his hand down on the counter and was boisterously laughing at Roman's unfortunate expense.

"My name's Jaune Arc. It's sweet, short, rolls of the tongue, ladies love it. I'd offer you my number, but my seven sisters would probably want to interrogate you. I do have a Shutterchat if you're still interested in keeping things on the down-low, though." He said, failing to hide the grin on his face.

Yang let her mouth hang open for a moment, before curling over herself in raucous laughter. Jaune joined in shortly after, their laughter drawing the attention of some patrons on the dance floor.

Yang collected herself for a short moment, before speaking up, "You know, I've been to at least a dozen different bars today and that honestly has to be the most ridiculous and original things I have heard all day.

"Well, you must've had a hell of a day if you've hit up that many bars." Jaune replied, finishing up the rest of his drink before sliding it to Junior once more.

Unintentionally letting her smile turn into a small frown she sat quiet for a few moments. "Well, you're right, there. I'm trying to track a… distant relative down, and I've had the worst luck with it." She sullenly said. Fishing a small Scroll out of her pocket, she opened it up and swiped through a few things before she presented the bright screen towards Jaune.

A gentle, yet hopeful expression graced Yang's face. "You wouldn't have happened to see this woman anywhere before, have you?" She asked, hopeful look ever present on her face.

Said woman looked almost identical to Yang, save for the dark ruby eyes, black hair, and the wicked odachi strapped to her waist.

"I'm sorry, honestly can't say I have. Junior or Roman here might have seen her before, you might try asking them." Jaune said, pointing to the two men behind him.

Junior, the ever-diligent bartender that he was had returned with Jaune's drink. Setting it down on the counter he nodded at Yang, extending his hand to take her Scroll. Taking the Scroll from her, he studied the picture for a moment, before shaking his head. Pausing for a moment, he took a step over to Roman, handing him the Scroll.

Taking the Scroll into his hands, he reached for his drink, only to spit it out across the bar counter. Junior let out an aggravated sigh and rolled his eyes, reaching to his waist to grab the towel hanging from it.

Yang shot out of her seat like a rocket, grabbing Roman by the shoulder. She turned his chair around so fast that Jaune assumed he'd get whiplash. Grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket, she tugged upwards on them. Jaune took a moment to notice the two yellow bracelets that sat on her wrists.

' _So, she's a Huntress. This is either going to get really good, or really bad, really quick.'_ Jaune thought to himself.

"You've seen her before? How do you know her? Where did you las-" She was blasted off. In what had to be less than the blink of an eye, Yang ended up on the floor, the barrel-end of a cane pushing against her throat. A distinctive click reverberated throughout the bar, and Jaune _knew_ that things just went really bad, really quick.

"Now blondie, I know that walking into this fine establishment here, you knew what to expect. I also know that this gorgeous face has been quite naughty with the press lately, so I'm fully aware you know who I am." Roman begin, his words coated in sarcasm.

"Furthermore…" He continued, pushing what had to be his weapon further against Yang's throat, "I can assume that you haven't _done_ anything about it because you know that I'm more than capable of taking down entire Huntsmen teams, let alone," his cane trailed off her neck, rapping the hard steel of her bracelets "Huntsmen-in-training teams."

Yang moved to get up, but found herself pinned back to the floor when the cane quickly moved to rest on her forehead.

"I swear, all you Branwens are either dangerously confident, or you're absolutely bat-shit insane and need to be institutionalized for the safety of the Kingdom."

Roman gave Yang a pointed look before pulling his cane off of her, using it to clasp his hands over and lean against.

"If the resemblance is anything to go by, I would take a good guess and say that you're the brat that Raven dumped with Taiyang. Now, why I know this isn't relevant, but I'm going to go out on quite the hunch here and say that little parakeet here is having some mommy-issues now, which means that you most likely want to know where she is."

Yang quickly rose to her feet, eyes flaring red, but held her ground a fair space away from Roman.

"Since your partner in crime here put me in a rather cheerful mood tonight, I'll cut you a deal. I'll tell you who and where mother dearest is, but in return I'm going to need you to do me a favor and deliver a little something to her. It's quite the win-win! I get my supplies delivered, crazy-bird gets them _and_ a daughter who doesn't seem to have a filter between _thinking_ and _acting."_

"Though," he drawled the word out, "if you don't want to do any of that, my lovely associate down the counter there would be more than happy to permanently fix that problem for you, absolutely free of charge as well." He nodded to a sole female sitting on the far end of the bar. She had an interesting mix of multi-colored hair and a rather short stature. The umbrella resting against the counter however, was most likely a weapon, _because it seems everyday items are all weapons now_ , and Jaune most certainly did not want to see her use it. The girl blew a kiss and a wink towards Yang, an impressive cheshire grin on her face.

Yang grumbled out what only could hopefully be translated to a "fine" and went to go sit back down. Before she could move though, Roman began once more.

"Let this be a lesson to you both. Whether you're a Huntsman, a student, or a civilian, the world is harsh, unforgiving, and there is nothing kind to it. It will kick you when you're down, and it will never let you back up, no matter how hard you try to claw your way to that little light at the end of the tunnel. The _only_ things that will ever help you survive out in this Kingdom are deception, deceit, and misdirection. Do not let this little rant of mine think you were safe or in the clear either. I would've had no sleep lost over disposing of you. I suggest you put some forethought into your actions next time, parakeet." With that, Roman curtly nodded, dismissing Yang.

Jaune let out a long and shaky breath, quickly downing his drink and thanking whatever deities that be for not getting him killed.

With that, Yang returned to her seat next to Jaune, a Strawberry Sunrise waiting for her.

"I think it's redundant saying this, but that was pretty reckless." Jaune said, casually looking at Yang from the corner of his eyes.

"Well, I guess I'll just have to add that encounter to the ongoing steak then," she bit back, quickly tipping her glass back and slamming it down on the counter.

"And suddenly, I have an onset of soul-crushing regret for ever wanting to go to Beacon." Jaune spoke, resting his forehead against the sticky counter.

"I'm actually going to Beacon too," Yang perked up, "we should keep in touch, yeah?"

Jaune raised his head, looking over to Yang. Fishing his Scroll out of his pocket, he handed it to Yang. "Sure, add your number and your socials. Just no crazy contact names, I already get enough grief from my sisters." She laughed at that, taking the phone and briefly fiddling with it before handing it back to him.

Glancing down at his screen, it read _"hottest blonde i know"._

His forehead quickly became re-acquainted with the sticky bar top.

* * *

Jaune dismissed the strangely fond memory, returning his focus to the journey ahead of him, continuing his steady pace down the road. He'd been traveling for a few steady hours now, with short breaks here and there to rest his legs.

' _I'll give it a few more miles before I take another break.'_ He thought to himself.

A crisp breeze blew by, and with it, the unmistakable sound of voices. Stopping dead in his tracks, he paused and surveyed the area around him.

For some time since he was a child, he often heard faint whispers or sounds on the far edges of his mind, but he had simply chalked that up to one of his sister's or parent's Semblances unintentionally affecting him. Though he had no idea what most of his sisters or parents Semblances were with complete accuracy, he ventured to say that was probably the cause.

He was half-expecting that either the Grimm were about to jump him, or bandits were. Lowering his hands to the dust-revolvers strapped to his thighs, he quietly and quickly unclasped the holster.

Though for whatever odd reason his parents refused to train him, Jaune did take it upon himself to hang around the local Huntsman lodges, watching them spar and fight. Sometimes, he'd get lucky and a Huntsman or Huntress would show him a few tricks in hand-to-hand combatives or basic weaponry-play. Nothing quite on par with what the entry-level academies taught, but enough to buy him time to "run and live". Over time he did manage to come decently proficient in ranged arms, something he was rather proud of.

When he was positive, or as positive as he could be given his lack of substantial training, he continued walking down the road. He didn't get a scant few feet before the voices returned, along with a deep pounding in his head. Using his free hand to hold his head in pain, he stopped once more, his own legs threatening to give out on him.

Giving the pain a minute or two to subside, he slowly began to walk on the road once more, cautiously looking around all the while.

' _Could be someone playing a prank on me, maybe somebody's Semblance. By the Brothers, I hope it's not.'_ Jaune frantically thought to himself.

When the next set of voices came, they brought no headache with them. This time, it was clear, deep, and held such an authority of command that it unnerved Jaune to no end.

' _The decreed hour is come. It is time for you to stand in judgement of your ancestors.'_

Jaune drew his guns, holding them out before him. He stood in place, slowly scanning the area around him. Seeing nothing, Jaune took a few steps forward, before he felt what could described as a tug on his mind, leading in towards the forest.

Ignoring this tug, he continued forward, refusing to be distracted by whatever was going on in his head. The tug returned once more, and this time, an image of what appeared to be a marble coffin flashed across his mind. Sparing a second glance at the area of the forest where he felt the tug on his mind, he took a few cautious steps off the road and into the forest.

' _Hasten forth, O' Chosen. The Revelation awaits, and with it, no time to squander.'_ A new voice said. This one was feminine, light and airy- a much improved contrast to the prior.

Continuing his walk through the forestry, Jaune took a moment to think to himself, _'I'm listening to voices in my head, seeing things in my head, and I'm totally walking into a forest because my imagination told me to. It's official, I've gone absolutely nuts.'_

He eased into a more even-paced walk, heading what must have been a tenth or quarter of a mile into the dense forest. The overhead canopy was thick, casting the under-story and floor of the forest in heavy shade. Up ahead, he could make out a much brighter area, indicating that there was potentially a clearing in that direction.

Approaching what he correctly assumed was the clearing, he was dumbfounded to see that in the middle of it all was a man-made structure consisting of a large foundation of grey and white stone tiles, with weathered and broken-down pillars scattered about it. In the center of it all was a circular, domed building where the front quarter of it was left open. Placed against the core of that, was a black and gold metal door, with two granite or marble statues placed on either side of it.

"What's something like this doing out in the middle of the forest?" Jaune wondered aloud.

Walking up on the foundation, he took his time examining the architecture of the area before wandering towards the metal door. It was set behind ornate marble stones which framed the door. Overhead rested a small statue of what appeared to be a woman looking to the sky, a full body cloak billowing around her. In front of the small statue set what looked to be an upside-down sword. He turned his attention downward towards the door. Giving it a good look up and down, he noticed the complete and utter lack of a doorknob, keyhole, handle, or anything of the like that would open the door.

' _Well, isn't this the most functional door on Remnant?'_

Reaching his hand out towards the door, Jaune lightly brushed the metal that the door was constructed out of and pulled his hand back in shock when he found that it was _warm_ to the touch. Hesitantly reaching out once more, he laid his hand flat against the metal. A faint, yet steady pulse of energy radiated from the door. As if calling out to his very soul, the energy settled and rumbled deep within him. It tugged at his being gently, calling him forth.

The door gently rumbled before it parted in the middle, each side of the door going their separate ways. Taking a moment to resolve his nerves, Jaune sheathed his guns and slowly crossed over the threshold. Upon entering the structure, he was met with dark-gray and white marble tiling set up in an intricate and noble-esque fashion. The area was set in a half-circle, with the base of it up against the door wall, and the rest curving in towards the back of the room. Lining the walls with equal spacings were large, marble column with gold outlines. At the base of each column on small raised blocks were dark aquamarine marble statues. Each statue held a large shield in their right arm, while their left hand rested a sword, blade down into the ground.

The statues were elevated above him, standing proud and tall. Their heads were tilted down towards the center of the room, or towards him. He couldn't tell, but he had a feeling in his gut that these statues were staring at him. There was a strange sense of familiarity and gentle hum of energy that radiated from them, but he paid them no mind.

Above him was a beautiful gold and glass circular skylight, which resided perfectly at the apex of the building. The sun's illuminated the room brilliantly, giving a warm shine to everything that resided within it. Directly below the skylight was a large, black and gold, ornate slate of marble, supported by a single angled pedestal. The slate itself looked to be a horizontally elongated hexagon, with wide sides and much shorter at the ends. Resting on top of it was a humanoid stone statue, lying flat on its back. It's left arm rested on its chest, while its right arm rest along its waist. Unbelievably, there was a small object hover above the statue.

Walking up to the very edge of the slate of marble that the statue rested on, Jaune took a moment to study it.

"This place seems more like a tomb… Maybe one of nobility? All the plain-looking armed statues that watch over this ornate coffin must hold some sort of symbolism." He wondered aloud.

He drew his gaze upwards towards the small floating object. It was a small black ring with the interior of the band being a dark gold, while face of the ring looked to be a circle. On the upper half of the ring rested an armored figure, its hands coming to rest on top of each other over the center of its chest. Directly beneath that figure, a dazzling gem rested in a thin circular socket. Small black pillars seemed to shoot from the outer socket of the ring directly into small socket that held the gemstone.

The gemstone itself however, caught Jaune's attention the most. It was a deep and dazzling dark blue, and if he squinted, it looked as if there was an entire galaxy of light blues and greens moving beneath it. Reaching out slowly, he made to gently grasp the ring. Before he could, his thoughts were interrupted by the sudden return of voices in his head. This time, it was yet another new voice. One that sounded old, weary, yet wise.

' _Take heed. Once you set forth, you cannot turn back…'_

Jaune shuddered as he _felt_ a hand rest itself on his shoulder.

' _Walk tall, my ...'_

Jaune retracted his hand from the ring immediately, rubbing the spot on his shoulder where we were sure that he was touched. Looking around in the empty tomb, Jaune paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. Locking his gaze onto the ring once more, Jaune reached out for it once more, gently allowing his thumb and index finger to grasp it. He sighed in relief when its light weight had settled into his hand.

Bringing it closer to his face, he inspected the ring once more, appreciating the absolute excellence of whoever made it. It was unlike anything he had ever seen. He heard the faint whispers of multiple voices in his head. He took the ring in his left hand, turned it right-side-up, and positioned it over his ring finger.

Looking around, he could feel the presence of dozens upon dozens of people looking at him, as if he were the King of Vale raising his scepter and sword for the first time. Whatever he was about to do, he knew that whatever, or _who_ ever these presences were, they were waiting to see what would happen. The ever-present tug on his soul grew, as if someone were trying to yank it out of his body.

Sucking in a deep breath, Jaune slowly slid the ring onto his finger, giving it a slight tug down to make sure it was secure. He was somewhat surprised when nothing happened, but he then soon felt it. An insurmountable amount of energy and power flowing from the ring towards his body, his soul. The ring shone brightly and cast the tomb in a dazzling and blinding light, forcing Jaune to raise his hand to cover his eyes and look away. A painful burning sensation coursed throughout his body, causing him to gasp and pant in pain.

The ring had poured out more energy, intensifying the burning sensation throughout his body tenfold. Falling to the ground, he clutched at his hand, screaming in agony. His vision began to fade and darken before the blissful embrace of unconsciousness had snared him.

* * *

I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter of the story! I was rather content with how this turned out. I originally wanted to add the next scene to the end of this, but I figured with Yang and Roman's introductions, it would simply be too much for one chapter.

Also, what could possibly happen now that Yang knows so much about her mother now? I'm obviously not going to tell you, so you'll all just have to wait until Initiation to see!

Update: Several things were changed in this chapter as I did not like how they turned out. I received excellent critiquing and reviewing from a colleague of mine, and some key things were addressed and subsequently changed to reflect said critiques.

Things like "Ranger, Master Huntsman Tier 8, Class SS Criminal, etc" Will be addressed in future chapters when we delve into the Huntsman Lodge Bounty and Ranking system.


	2. Arc I: The Crown Prince

Arc I, Chapter II

 _The Crown Prince_

* * *

A dissonance of voices, varied in emotion, clawing against the surface of his mind. Explosions of emotion send premonitions of discord and strife throughout his nerves. An uproariousness of unwanted thoughts stuck in a paradoxical loop in his mind- ever present yet so fleeting as they come.

The pressure builds, pandemonium set aflame in his mind. It builds from stray embers into a roaring bonfire of disquietude emotion.

And then, nothing. Clarity and serenity.

Weary eyes open to a dark throne set atop a large flight of grandiose marble stairs. Surrounding it, lesser, but equally as imposing thrones stretching from the fringes of his vision. Below him, an eloquent pattering of marble flooring, not a blemish marring its glossy surface. Above him, blue flames swirled around the boundaries of the area he were tenant to. It were if a room was torn out of reality itself and cast unto the eye of the storm.

Amidst the calm and serenity, the sound of a thousand mirrors breaking echoed throughout the dimension, echoing in infinite distance, yet in reverberation throughout the throne. In front him loomed an armored figure, easily doubling his height and tripling his width. His armor silver and intricate, more so than the architecture of the dimension itself. Curved horns protruded from his pauldrons, and a fierce set of four horns distended from his ornate helmet. Four small slits were carved out of the helmet, presumably to see out of.

"You are bright. Optimistic. Hopeful. Naive." The voice was deep, distorted, projecting from every direction but that of his figure.

"Your soul radiates a pureness of Light we've not known since the ages of yore, time immemorial itself."

Likened to earlier, the sound of a thousand shattering mirrors once again paradoxically reverberated through the dimension, another armored figure walking behind him. He dare not turn his head, for he was strangely apoplectic towards the figure in front of him.

"You trust easily, yet are so susceptible to betrayal and hidden intentions. Yet, here you stand before us. You heed our call without query. An illusion to your willingness to believe in the innate good of humanity, perhaps? Maybe a defense mechanism against a psychological trauma." This voice was smooth, someone who obviously knew their way around a conversation.

Glass thrice rang throughout the dimension.

"Ease yourself, Callidus. He is but a babe in comparison to our existences. Need I remind you that our kingdom began as nothing but a pebble lost among billions of others. Within the universe itself, the cosmic garden of mythical proportions that surrounds and awes us. Woe, but humble monuments to creation we are, for everything that is splendid and great stands at the end of incalculable chance and mayhem." The armored figure moved through Jaune's periphery and came to rest next to the first figure. Smaller in stature compared to his counterpart, his armor was light and airy, accompanied by a plethora of angelic wings stemming from his back.

He looked down upon the boy and in that moment, Jaune felt how truly small he was in this world.

"Yes, you have talents. Enormous, wondrous powers dwelling deep within your righteous and pure soul. Flawed and perfectly imperfect as you may be. You are humanity's second chance, yet do you know what it is to be a king? Do you comprehend the human struggle? Do you truly know what it means to sacrifice? No, no you do not."

The towering giant walked forth and stood mere feet from Jaune now.

"Not yet. Your name is yet another pebble, lost in this equation of incalculable chance and mayhem. You? You are but a cold apple seed." The figure knelt before Jaune, his helmet now a scant few feet from his face.

" _But you will grow._ "

And with his speech concluded, he swiftly and graceful rose once more, like an angel rising unto the great heavens above, taking his place to the right of the original figure.

Quadruple, for the familiar cacophony of broken glass echoed once more, this time to the left of the first figure. This one was distinctly feminine, with heels longer than his arms, armored greaves, and a flowing waist cape. Ribbons trailed behind her armored figure, dangling from the protrusion of her pauldrons.

"Oh Sophus, if only Callidus here could be as ever eloquent and tactful as you. I will concur with him, though. This is the boy we rest our hopes on. While his innate goodness is a quality we've seen few and far between, I cannot help but be apprehensive that it will be his undoing." She spoke, her eyeless gaze resting on Jaune.

The sound of broken glass once again filled the dimension, but this time to an unarmored figure. A man of Jaune's height, his grayed hair smoothly slicked back. He wore formal black and white striped attire, a pauldron and cape also resting upon his shoulder. He walked forth, studying Jaune with an appreciative interest.

The man turned back, looking upwards to the female figure behind him. "Crepera, come now. He is young. One must understand this."

He turned back towards Jaune. "You are confused. Our call leads you here, yet the purpose eludes you. The greater scheme, beyond your grasp." The man spoke. Charisma laced his words with the smoothness of silk, a welcome change to the distorted and powerful voices of those above him.

Managing to find his nerve and the ability to coherently speak once more, Jaune eyed the man with a dawning realization.

"I-I've seen you before! Paintings in my home, footnotes in history books. You're my great-grandfather! The one who fought in the war!" Jaune exclaimed, shock and awe coursing through his already overloaded nerves.

The man smiled, "That would be correct. Avus Rex Arcus, the Regem of Vale. Or in the more common tongue, Avus Rex Arc, the King of Vale."

Ignoring the fact that he was possibly in an alternate reality, Jaune narrowed in on a blatant disparity between his family's current standing compared to what his grandfather had told him.

"Wait, if you were the King of Vale, why wouldn't have my grandfather- your _son_ have inherited the throne then?" Jaune inquired.

"Unfortunately, that tale will have to be tabled until the current matter is settled, my child. Aside from the corruption that seeds our kingdom, a great darkness seeds the world itself, ever so close to entrapping humanity within its most vile webs. Forces and powers beyond your wildest imagination are at war, my child. Most unfortunately for humanity, we're losing, gravely. If humankind doesn't do itself in first, the darkness will be thereupon to finish the job."

"We've not much time before you return to the world, so we must make great haste in preparing you."

"Grandfather, I don't understand-"

"I know my child, and I am most deeply sorry for that. You must heed our words carefully, young one."

Jaune closed his mouth, intent on letting his ancestor explain.

"The Ring you donned is imbued with great magics, magics that come from time antiquity itself. Before aura and dust, before the Golden Age, to the very beginnings of humanity itself. Long before the Gods entered their slumber, they bequeathed this ring unto our ancestors, so that they might fight against the growing darkness. Within this Ring, are the culminated powers of our ancestors. The ring has chosen you, my child, to be its bearer, so that you may purge this world of darkness, and absolve humanity from its long war."

"As you've seen and heard before your eyes, our ancestors are present and with us even now, thanks to the magics of the Ring. The power dwelling deep within our blood, it binds us- past, present, future. To us, constraints such as time, space- it crumbles beneath the bond that is shared between our line, Jaune. The Rulers of Yore, as you've met some already, aid the new ringbearer in their quest against the darkness. Their power and wisdom are at your behest so that you may save our world, Jaune.

"There are things that we cannot reveal to you yet. It would put you in too much danger before you've learned to properly control your powers. I know it seems a great deal to take all this in, and it is indeed a heavy burden to bear. To be frank with you, this is a lot to take in within such a scant amount of time. I need you to trust in us Jaune. I implore you."

Jaune had interjected Avus at this point, "I don't know if I'm ready to handle all this. I'm not prepared to fight in a war. I couldn't even get into Beacon without faking my transcripts. What you're asking me to do is beyond anything I could manage on my own. I- I just don't even know where to begin. Even if this isn't some weird dream, you're asking me to _overthrow_ an entire government!"

Avus smiled softly at his descendant, seeing much of his younger self in the boy. The hesitation, anxiety, worry, the fear.

"Then allow this to be your first lesson. A king is nothing without his friends. His allies. His _people_. Your first step in this war is to reclaim our throne. To unite the people of our kingdom underneath one banner. A kingdom divided is doomed to fall, and we must rectify the issue before it worsens."

"Ozpin. It is imperative you find Ozpin Izunia. He will guide you through your trials. Just as when he served me as my adviser, he will serve you as a vaunted ally, and most importantly, as a friend. In our absence, he has fought for us as valiantly as he could. It is paramount that you find him."

As Avus finished his tidings, the ground violently shook, parts of the pristine marble cracking and swirling upwards into the now roaring and unstable vortex above.

"Our time is ending here. Remember, the line of Arc goes with you and shall guide you. You need only but look inward for our guidance."

The word began collapsing in on itself, vehemently soaring into the endless vortex.

"Protect the ring, protect your people, and protect our kingdom. Walk tall, grandson."

And once more, Jaune had been thrown in the abyssal darkness.

* * *

Please let me know of any mistakes as I did not have a chance to have this betaed. I intend to have a beta look it over and add some things before I post the third chapter. Nothing story changing, just better usage of words and such.

Thank you to those who have read so far! Please leave a review down below with any comments or critiques you may have.


	3. Arc I: Memento Mori

Arc I, Chapter III

 _Memento Mori_

* * *

Jaune often dreamt of his time at the Huntsman Lodge. The countless days on end he would spend at there, watching and learning from the Huntsmen and Huntresses, just another fleeting memory of the past now.

Jaune never understood the inner machinations of his father's mind. While his sisters were allowed to train and prepare to become huntresses, his father was dead-set on ensuring that Jaune never got so much as a modicum of any kind or form of combat training. Arguments were a common occurrence between them. That is, when is father wasn't off being a war hero out on the frontlines.

Mother dearest, on the other hand, had no problem in helping Jaune as best she could. While she couldn't outright train him, lest his sisters tattle to his father, she did drop hints about the local Huntsman Lodge. His mother had often said that a lot of Huntsmen there were always looking for people to help around the lodge, and chances are they'd be willing to show him a few things in return.

That was how he found himself spending most his hours of the day when his father was away. Trudging the few miles to the lodge, which was a homely three-story log building set atop the eastern hills of Arkend, providing an excellent vantage point of the city.

The Huntress-in-charge, Master Huntress Maisie Talis, was kind middle-aged woman who was more than happy to help Jaune get to work. He did anything from working the dispatch office to assisting the other Huntsmen with whatever they needed help with, and when he was lucky, field work.

His mother had most certainly been right when she told him that the Huntsmen and Huntresses would show him a few tricks. The basics of gunplay, swordplay, and the like. While it was hardly akin to what would pass in an academic setting, whether it be in a preparatory academy like Signal, or an actual academy like Beacon, it was just enough to run and live another day.

Memories of Crowley, however, had always been burned into the forefront of his mind. The roguish maverick of a young and hot-headed huntsman could leave nothing but such an impression on Jaune.

When Jaune had started visiting the range at the lodge, the Huntsman had been so perturbed by Jaune's shooting that he couldn't help but constantly interject himself into his practice. Pointers soon turned into a few minutes of instruction here and there. Soon after, those had turned into hours worth of practice, both of them often exchanging stories- Jaune about his life at home, and the wild maverick, Crowley, about his tales of exploit and grandeur.

They had a good system. Jaune would speak, Crowley would listen, and vice versa. It would seem like common sense that such a system would exist, but Jaune learned that some hunters simply didn't have a filter whatsoever. Crowley had preferred it like that anyways. Had always said it was "easier to let someone finish than it is to drag it on." He wasn't all that wrong, in Jaune's mind.

A year or so after their initial meeting, Crowley had been preparing to leave for another expedition out into the wildlands. Crowley, in all his graciousness left Jaune with a gift. A prized possession of his, in fact. One of his weapons, a revolver. The look on Crowley's dark, roguish face had been ingrained into Jaune's memory since that day. Never once had he seen someone look so proud of him. To this day, he still isn't sure why Crowley had that look on his face, but that was okay. Some things simply weren't meant to be understood.

The revolver itself was a beautifully crafted weapon. The barrel was a sleek, glossy black, that smoothly flowed down to the trigger guard, seamless transition into a hand-crafted wooden grip. A matte grey cylinder rested in its loaded position, each of the polished six sides detailed with an intricate arrow facing towards the barrel. The outline of the cartridge chambers glowed a dim sage green, their faint hue an ever-comforting presence in the darkness. The top strap of the gun was a brilliant ivory white, which ran the upper length of the gun to the barrel. Truly, the weapon Crowley had made so many years ago was a masterpiece.

The memory was vivid. The words, forever ingrained in his mind.

"These guns are special Jaune. And no, not in the "daddy's little precious weapon". They're forged from Vytalian Steel by a master smith. The grips were carved by myself in the recesses of the ancient Vediant Forest.. These guns are magic, and I'm not hyperbolizing. They're the mark of a true Gunslinger, and now I'm leaving this weapon- my very legacy itself, to you."

Jaune had treasured the weapon greatly. It wasn't often that he got to practice with Crowley's guns, but when he did it was one of the most enjoyable experiences of his life. To him, there was nothing else like it in the world.

Weeks on end later, after no contact with Crowley a team of hunters were dispatched to attempt and locate him. After a few days of tedious searching, they had a recovered a (thankfully) intact body.

The news had been devastating for Jaune. Master Huntress Maisie herself was the first to approach him with express condolences. Her usually well-kempt brown hair was frazzled and in a tizzy, while the bags under her eyes suggested that he wasn't the only one to have lost sleep in the weeks prior to today.

"He left a letter for you. A handful of people, actually. Nobody's opened them yet, but they look like he's been hanging onto these for quite awhile now. Needless to say, this one's yours." She handed him the letter and gave him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.

"I know he meant a lot to you. Taught you a lot of things. Just know you meant the same to him, and wherever he's off gallivanting around now, he's looking out for you."

With those short words, the Master Huntress had left him to his own devices.

Jaune wasted no time in opening the well-worn letter.

" _I'm sorry kid, but it looks like I'm at the end of my story. Things took a bad turn, to say the least. I should've known at some point gallivanting around the wilds alone would get me killed. My team was right after all, I guess. Can't say I'd take it back, though. There are things out here that you wouldn't believe, Jaune. Wonderful and beautiful things that haven't been touched by humans for centuries. Aside from the Grimm, it's peaceful out here. Wouldn't mind settling out here. I can see why your parents did it when they founded Arkend._

 _Wish I could've patched things up with partner before I had to go, though. Anastasia and I had something special, you know? I ruined that, though. I seem to do a lot, now that I think about it. How do you make that kind of decision though? How can you choose between someone you love and your calling? Something you've strived and wished for your whole life? One of these days, I hope you realize just how special these kinds of relationships are. They're truly something to be treasured._

 _In the end though, there was one thing I didn't royally mess up on. That was you, kid. Like the little brother I had never wanted, but ended up with anyways. Talented, too. You picked up gunslinging so quickly it made even my head swim. I'm still the best slinger out here though, so don't let that go to your head too quickly, ace._

 _When you guys find me, and hopefully you do because it'd be so unpoetic if you didn't, there are some things that I want you to have. My trusty cloak, I leave in your hands. I hope it makes you look almost as roguishly charming as I do. Secondly, I leave my apartment in Vale Proper to you. I know we've talked about getting you into Beacon and this happens to tie into my next point. Thirdly, I leave this piece of information with you- Find Roman Torchwick. If you want that chance to prove yourself, find him. He'll help you. And if he doesn't… well, tell him that Scátach will come back from the grave to knock him over the head. Don't think you need to worry about that, though. He's just as much a sucker for the wildcard underdog as I am._

 _Lastly, I leave to you the other half of my life. When I was fourteen, I forged Memento and Mori with my father. In my mother's tongue, they mean Remember and Death. Together, they imply the meaning "To remember we must face death." Now that I leave Memento Mori to you, it's your task to find a befitting name for yourself._

 _I'm sorry that we couldn't spend more time together, kid. Wish I would've been there to see you grow up into a man. But alas, memento mori, Jaune. You're going to make an outstanding Huntsman one day. Settle down with a nice girl, start a family, and maybe save the world if you're feeling bold enough._

 _My home was always out here in the wilds. Yours, however, is not here. You haven't found your belonging yet- your home. I hope you do find it one day, though. Once you find it, never let it go, because it sure won't ever let you go._

 _Be strong, my brother._

 _Love,_

 _Crowley_

Jaune closed his eyes, struggling to hold back to tears. This pain in his heart was nothing like when Grandpa Alexander died. This, this was something beyond that.

Crowley had put it eloquently. Memento Mori. And to death we go.

Never to return.

* * *

 **The Huntsman Ranking system, according to the accounts of Pathfinder Crowley Shinobu Venandi**

 _For all the good in the world Huntsmen and Huntresses do, for a long time there was no structure to the order. Spend a few years in school, get a fancy piece of plastic showing that you're a certified Hunter, and that's that._

 _Sure, it's easy to go pick up a mission and do it, but without true coordination, there was no headway in the war against the Grimm. On top of that, you also had your fair share of Rogue Hunters making a mess of things as well. Soon enough, it wasn't enough that you were a certified Hunter. Civilians couldn't trust us anymore._

 _Well, that was until a certain King by the name of Avus implemented the Huntsman Lodge. An institution designed to band the Hunters together, to give them purpose and direction while simultaneously allowing for Hunters to be trusted again._

 _The Hunter ranking system was split into 10 different tiers._

 _Your first four tiers are your academy students. First through fourth years make up these ranks. They're not licensed Hunters, however they are still qualified combatants, if not inexperienced._

 _The Fifth tier was known as an "Apprentice". A freshly graduated Hunter that's on a probation of sorts with the Lodge. This quote unquote, "probation" varied in time depending on the actions of an individual during their training. Obviously, star students had close to no probationary period, and were assigned to shadow a Huntsman or Huntress for a short period of time to get them acquainted with the job. Morally questionable students have to earn the right to be apart of the Lodge, though. This was a key factor in making sure that civilians could trust Hunters._

 _The Sixth tier was when you became a bona fide Huntsman or Huntress. Fully licensed and fully endorsed by the lodge. Even though this rank could consist of recent graduates, you also had to take into account the amount of field experience these guys got during their schooling. Would a new Huntsman be able to take down someone who's been a Huntsman for a handful of years?_

 _Probably not. Unless you're cool, like me._

 _The Seventh tier is where shit starts getting serious. A Master Huntsman or Huntress was someone who's honed their craft for years. The rank is bestowed to exceptional fighters, support units, and tacticians alike. These people were in charge of managing different holds throughout the Saunan continent, and the Hunters beneath them. These people knew the land, the people, and most importantly, the Grimm._

 _The Eighth tier is when we really get down to who's the best at what they do. These guys are known as Rangers. While Master Hunters could be in charge of these guys, the title of Ranger was more so aimed towards a combat standing, of sorts. Didn't matter how long you've been a Hunter for. The Ranger title was reserved for the deadliest and most efficient of us. Whether it be in terms of fighting the Grimm, or other humans, Rangers were the best the Lodge had to offer. I've seen some Rangers cut through Grimm hordes without breaking a sweat. Sometimes, I don't even think they take more than two breaths before they've cleaved through dozens of Grimm. Some Rangers, though, like my buddy Roman, knew their way around fighting humans a bit better. While they weren't specifically aimed at combating Rogue Hunters, the underlying feeling was still there._

 _Rangers are truly a unique and elite bunch. One Ranger may be able to wipe out a few dozen mid-class Grimm in scant seconds, but another may be able to fell a Goliath in a single strike. Trying to compare Rangers to each other is nearly impossible, due to the inherent uniqueness of the title._

 _The Ninth tier of Hunters could be considered the most important to some. If Rangers were a rare animal, then Pathfinders were an endangered species on the verge of extinction. You'd be lucky if you'd see two or three different Pathfinders in your lifetime. Pathfinders are a myth, to most. A bedtime story you tell scared children at night. Tales of Hunters who strayed from the protection of the Kingdom's walls, away from settlements, and away from the safety and comfort of civilization._

 _Pathfinders lived in the wildlands, mapping, charting, and scouting the Unknown Regions. While the Wildlands, if you remember correctly, were away from civilization, they weren't quite out in the middle of nowhere, truly. The Unknown Regions were things became truly dangerous. Out there, you had to your own eyes in the back of your head. There are things out there in the Darkness that the most seasoned of us wouldn't believe. The true threat lied out there, and it was our job to find it and eliminate it._

 _I was lucky in my time, as I trained with multiple Pathfinders that graduated from Beacon. The only ones I knew of were myself, Qrow Branwen, Summer Rose, Ozpin Izunia, and Scatatch Greimne. As I mentioned earlier, you were lucky to see more than two in your lifetime. I guess things were really looking up for humanity if I were so fortunate to know that many brave souls._

 _The Tenth tier is the absolute pinnacle of what it means to be a Hunter. The Lord Commander. The title given to the single individual who commanded the Huntsman Lodge. To be Lord Commander meant you have the absolute trust of every Huntsman out there. Personal opinions about each other didn't matter. You're trusted because you're the best of us, the pinnacle of all Hunters. Trusted because we know that the Lord Commander will make only the best decisions possible. Even if they don't make sense, even if they don't work out at first, you had the unwavering backing and support of the Lodge. Such is the power of the Lord Commander, that if we were told to turn on the Kingdom itself, well..._

 _Let's just say I'd hate to be the reason person responsible for making the Lord Commander come to such a decision._

* * *

Apologies again for the delay and short chapter. I'll do my best to put the next chapter up sooner, and hopefully it's a longer one.

Extras in this chapter:

 **Crowley's name:**

Crowley comes from the name of the leader of the Ranger Corps in the Ranger's Apprentice book series, Crowley Meratyn.

Shinobu comes from the name of Himura Shinobu, a Hunter who formed the Six Coyotes, a fireteam of six Hunters that were the first to scout out the Russian Cosmodrome, and beyond its walls, from Destiny.

Venandi comes from the Latin word Venandi, which translates to "Hunter" in English.

 **Memento and Mori**

While not only a Gundam 00 reference, it's also a reference to the name of the perk that the hand cannon, The Ace of Spades has, in Destiny. To Crowley, it's a reminder that everyone faces death eventually. Even Pathfinders.

Vytalian Steel, the steel the revolvers are forged out of, is an allusion to Valyrian Steel.

Rowan Wood, the grip material, is an allusion to the wood that Spooks make their staves out of in The Last Apprentice books. According to European mythology, the Rowan tree was also known as "wayfarer's" tree or "traveler's" tree, because it supposedly prevents those on a journey or quest from getting lost. It's also believed the wood has mystical/magical properties that ward way evil and malevolent spirits.

The guns share a striking resemblance to "The First Curse", a hand cannon from Destiny 1. That was the basis in which I designed the gun.

As always, thank you for reading! If you enjoyed or have criticisms, please leave a review!


	4. Arc I: Unbroken

Arc I, Chapter IV:

 _Unbroken_

* * *

He awoke to a familiar ornate skylight, showcasing a plethora of dark clouds in the afternoon sky above. An omen of the ever growing seed of darkness, as his grandfather had so eloquently put it.

He tentatively raised his arm above him, praying that there wouldn't be a ring, that he didn't just speak to the dead, and that he most certainly wasn't just tasked with overthrowing an entire Kingdom.

"Woe, for thy name is Jaune Arc." He sarcastically muttered to himself. The ring had most definitely retained its seat on his finger, the dull thrum of its power coursing through his blood. That had really happened.

That had really happened.

Whatever that place was, whether it be a conjugation of his mind, the workings of the magics within the ring, (since magic was apparently a thing now) it was real. He allowed his hand to drop to his chest, content with staring through the skylight above. Thoughts raced through his mind, indecision roaring throughout his nerves.

One thing had been abundantly clear, though. Ozpin Izunia would have the answers he sought. Avus had specifically named Ozpin as someone who could guide him through whatever this was. In a way, it made sense. As a headmaster of an academy, Ozpin would have networks upon networks of information and people to help him. Whatever the case may be, Ozpin could help him. Surely.

Hopefully.

Maybe.

If luck was on his side.

Jaune yelled aloud.

Slowly rising to his feet, he studied the tomb around him. Absolutely nothing had changed from what he could tell. The statues still sat in perfect alignment, watching him from their pedestals. Sighing to himself, he began to make his way towards the exit. Upon crossing the threshold, the door began to seal itself behind him, forever closing itself to unwanted intruders.

Thunder rumbled above, echoing throughout the vast valley. Dark, stormy clouds blanketed the sky above, stretching to parts unknown beyond the horizon. A sharp gust blew by, chilling Jaune to his bone.

Something… Something wasn't right. The world, it seemed to speak to him, urge him, warn him.

 _'The power of the Ring brings forth the Light. If you listen closely enough, the Light speaks to us, gives us signs. Mother Nature herself cries out, foretelling the coming darkness. For you to have received a sign so unmistakable, signs that something is certainly wrong. There is a taint, an evil plaguing the land, its intents malicious and vile.'_

It was a familiar voice. The second giant to have spoken, the one the woman referred to as "Sophus".

 _'Your memory serves you well, young prince. My name is Sophus Arcus. In my time, I was known as "The Wise". I was the first of our family to erect a magical wall around the Kingdom in the Dark Ages. I protected the realm against the darkness for ages, until it came time to relinquish the throne to my son.'_

"The Dark Ages? That was before humanity discovered dust, wasn't it? Most knowledge about that time is speculation, since there are close to no historical records of it. Some say it never existed at all." Jaune commented.

 _'I can assure you that the Dark Age that followed The Collapse was indeed real. However, that is a tale for another time. The Light calls to you in its time of need. As we call upon it to fight against the darkness, so does it too call upon us to protect it from the corruption. It is most prudent to heed its call. The Light shall guide the way, you need only listen.'_

Jaune faintly felt light buzz in his mind, as if a thought that was once there was replaced by another one. An indicator that his ancestors had left him to his own devices now, perhaps.

His eyes scanned the area surrounding the tomb, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. Thunder still roared from above. Everything seemed normal. No sense of foreboding doom, or anything of the sort.

Sophus' words rang throughout his mind once more. _"The Light shall guide the way, you need only listen"._

Closing his eyes, he deeply inhaled the stormy air. Oxygen rushed into his lungs and with it, a sense of clarity growing in his mind. The storm above sung a great ballad of dominance and power. The trees swayed softy in the forest, humming in a unified harmony. The ground beneath his feet radiated a warm, homely feeling. In the distance, a sense of ill fate permeated from beyond the forestry, promising naught but evils upon the world.

Exhaling, his bright indigo eyes honed in on the sensation. He began a slow walk in the direction, only to stop when a bright blaze of red ascended into the sky above.

 _'I've got a bad feeling about this'._

The gentle brush against his mind said that his ancestors most definitely agreed with him.

* * *

Traversing the wilds was second nature by now. Months on end of learning how to efficiently and quietly move about forestry were ingrained in Jaune's subconscious. It wasn't just how to move like a Huntsman, it was how to move like a _Pathfinder_.

Yes, there was a difference

At least... according to Crowley, there was.

Crowley firmly believed that the average Huntsman was loud, brutish, and held no sense of tact when it came to not drawing attention to themselves. On the other hand, Pathfinders moved with an uncanny grace through any sort of terrain. Pathfinders blazed a path forward for the future, or at least that's how Crowley poetically put it.

It meant that you had to move in certain ways. Pathfinders explored the unknown regions, sometimes days and even weeks away from the nearest form of assistance. Remaining undetected while moving as quickly and efficiently as possibly were crucial to the job.

After training with a Pathfinder for two years, Jaune could safely say he was well on his way to near-perfecting one of the many arts of the _"Way of the Pathfinder"_ as Crowley said.

He turned his attention back to his surroundings. The brilliant luminescence that shined on the forest was long gone, harsh gusts of wind and dark clouds gathering overhead. He didn't need a connection with the "Light" to know that the weather was but an ill omen of what was to come. Memento and Mori were secured in their holsters, sitting restless in anticipation for the likely battle to come.

Wait- guns could sit restlessly?

Pushing the thought aside, Jaune ducked and weaved through the forestry, breaths even and controlled as he followed the tell-tale nudges the light sent him. Small tremors reverberated throughout the ground, causing his bones to shudder in pre-fight nervousness. He could safely assume from the amount of tremors he felt, whatever battle was occurring was taking place either at close range with explosive equipment, or at long-range battle with heavy dust usage. Even then, it was just better to hedge your bets and expect all of the above, none of the above, and then every other inconceivable idea.

A ranged battle would have been preferable. Even more so, a short skirmish or no battle whatsoever would be even better. Close-ranged combat with nothing naught a knife and lack of aura would be suicidal. Crowley's guns were powerful and had incredible range given the size they were. Without understanding a lick of anything regarding what magical -he snorted at the unrealized literalness of that word- powers the ring had, it all more than cemented a ranged tactic.

He slowed slightly as he came upon a clearing. The Light sent out a pulse of urgency letting Jaune know that whatever he was stumbling on was something beyond the ordinary. Crouching behind a log which provided both suitable cover and concealment, he was finally able to ascertain what was actually happening.

Now, just as Crowley taught.

 _Breathe in._

 _Hold._

 _Hold._

 _Breathe out._

 _Assess the situation._

Three on one side, one on the other. A lull in combat. Red and green themed women. One with a bladed bow and the other with what appeared to be revolver...scythe...sickle...things? A silver-haired man on the team with no visible armaments. A lone brunette wielding a staff. The Light rushed his senses, overwhelming him with feelings he could barely describe.

 _Nature. Balance. Autumn. Light. Magic. Protect._

The message was paradoxically clear. Protect the Light.

Jaune observed the team once again, specifically focusing on the woman in the red dress. Shaking off the strange familiarity he felt for but a fleeting moment, the Light rushed his sensations once more.

 _Conflict. Corruption. Power. Strength. Fear. Envy. Danger._

 _Breathe in._

 _Hold._

 _Hold._

 _Breathe out_.

Jaune held his position. He would wait for the ensured melee to begin again, observe, and intervene at an opportune enough time that he could grab the girl and haul ass the hell out of this place. The pinnacle of all strategies trademarked by Jaune.

Run and live another day.

Revolver girl and the unarmed boy had moved in tandem, rushing fast on the lone girl's flanks. She quickly raised her staff and sent a small series of fireballs towards the boy, except they all had run wide of their intended target who hadn't deviated from his intended course whatsoever.

Something wasn't right.

Jaune looked back to the mint-haired girl and noticed she had stopped moving, only to resume her rush shortly after. The three quickly became entangled in a fast melee, the lone girl keeping the duo at bay with relative ease. Minty-as Jaune now dubbed her-pulled back from the melee and stood at a standstill once more.

The woman in the red dress began to move, quickly circling around the present melee, obviously attempting to get to the unguarded backside of her target. Such a tactic were sound, unless your opponent could see you do it from a mile away.

However, the brunette while still locked in what was becoming a rather one-sided fight in her favor, didn't seem to notice the obvious flank whatsoever.

Something _really_ wasn't right.

Getting ready to interject into fight, he was temporarily halted by a gentle tap on the edge of his mind.

" _Still as a statue the girl stands twice, and twice does our ally blatantly make fledgling errors. The two are most definitely interconnected. The question ever remains. How?"_ Sophus was on to something here.

' _Standing still is a dependent. A stipulation. The variable or change must be affecting the girl. It can't be telekinesis that affected the fireballs, otherwise she would've seen that woman flanking her. It must affect her perception of reality somehow.'_

" _Indeed, a very sound deduction. Go forth now. Your ancestors shall guide and fight alongside you, simply heed your instincts."_

Jaune leapt over his log rushing towards the melee. The girl was about to be caught-off guard by the woman behind her, and with Minty rejoining the fray, it didn't look good. With the element of surprise still on his side, Jaune began sliding to a halt some fifty or sixty feet away from the group.

With a deftness and dexterity one could only have after tireless hours of practice, Memento was released from its holster, rumbling in anticipation. With a small twirl, Memento faithfully rested at the ready by his hip. Fanning the hammer, Memento roared thrice into the clearing. Time slowed for a second as the combatants turned towards the sound, but it had been too late.

Memento sung and death rode the wind.

Minty and Silver took a blow each, a clean hit to the shoulder and chest respectively. Red had found a new burning hole in the right forearm of her dress. Using the lapse in the flow of battle, the lone girl dashed away from the confused skirmish and took up stance just over halfway between himself and her attackers.

"That's enough. I highly suggest you leave this place." Jaune mustered up whatever confidence could. It wasn't a whole lot, but the others didn't need to know that, did they now?

The raven-haired woman stepped forward, glaring pointed daggers at him.

"I'm afraid that will not be possible. This girl holds something that doesn't belong to her. I would suggest _you_ leave this place, _boy_."

Jaune indignantly returned her glare.

"A matter of thievery is best left to a representative of the law such as myself, then." Jaune stepped forward once more, a challenging tone to his voice.

' _You are the Crown Prince, child. Let your voice be heard and let your words go unchallenged.'_ A voice called out in the back of his head. Confidence surged throughout his body. He straightened his posture slightly, and opted to change his indignant glare for a passive gaze that conveyed dismissal.

"I was not aware they let children play police officer out in the wilds." The woman rebuked.

"My name is Crowley Venandi, Pathfinder of the Huntsman Lodge, and apprentice of the Lord Commander, Ozpin. I would suggest you take your scraggly band of prepubescent misfits elsewhere lest you find yourselves asking for much more than you bargained." Memento's hammed was pulled down with a resounding click.

' _As great as that felt to say, I have a feeling that this is about to go to shit real fast.'_

The raven haired woman nodded toward her companions.

Jaune readied Memento.

Minty and Silver wasted no time in charging towards Jaune, who in turn let Memento cry rage once more, fanning the rest of his clip out. Minty raised her revolvers in return, but was interrupted by a powerful torrent of wind that had blown her away clear back to her ally. Silver was uninterrupted closing the distance in mere seconds.

Jaune backpedaled, drawing Mori and hoping to put at least some distance, however small between him and his attacker. Silver's speed was beyond anything that he was capable of replicating, and thus Jaune was most certainly panicked when the boy was a mere foot from taking his head clean off in a vicious roundhouse.

An unholy screech of metal on metal rang out through the clearing leaving Jaune's ears rather pained. A newcomer had entered the fray, his red cape gently swaying in the breeze. A hulking and wicked-looking greatsword was held in front of him, partially cleaved into Jaune's would-be-killer's… mechanical leg?

In what had to be less than the blink of an eye, the attacker quickly found himself on the ground pinned by the man's foot on his chest and greatsword precariously pressed against his neck. Looking back to where the rest of the assailants were, Jaune noticed Minty was once again standing still. Not letting anything go to chance, he fired off a round from Mori at her, forcing her to break concentration and deflect the bullet with a swift twirl of her scythe...sickle...thing.

' _By the brothers, what is it with modern day weapons all being absolutely bat-shit crazy?'_

"Well, so much for negations. Good job, there _Pathfinder_." The man's deep and scratchy voice patronized him. The not-so-subtle inflection at the end didn't pass unnoticed either.

"Minty over there -a snigger from the silver-haired boy on the ground- is an illusionist. She can't use her semblance unless she's standing still." Jaune retorted, allowing himself a small smirk at the man's surprised features.

A flash drew Jaune's attention back to the other two attackers, and soon enough a massive fireball that continued to grow in width and size was barreling towards them, the sheer heat already not-so healthily roasting Jaune's skin.

"Amber, now's a great time to get your magic mojo going!" The man called out.

The girl glanced back with a panicked look on her face. "I don't have enough left!" She cried.

A vision flashed before his eyes.

He stood in a massive ornate hallway, the ceiling looming dozens of feet above him. A pale, white-haired woman who was rather beautiful given her unique features stood across from him. Malicious red eyes bore into his sole, promising naught but death and pain. A massive blast of energy hurtled towards him, growing in size and strength by the second.

A pause in time. And then he felt it. A raging ocean of power roaring deep within the recesses of his soul. Unbound in distance and infinite in depth.

This overwhelming power, so ancient and potent came rushing to him in a mere thought. An overwhelming power that was his.

On instinct alone as just in the vision, he leapt in front of the red-caped man, throwing the brunette behind him. Ignoring whatever protests they may have had, Jaune raised his hand. The ring glowed and hummed with unbridled power.

Power that just like in the vision, was his.

' _You are a wall against the darkness. You will_ _ **not**_ _bend. You will_ _ **not**_ _yield. You will not_ _ **be**_ _broken. You are the wall in which the darkness breaks. Thus, you will give it_ _ **no quarter.**_ _'_ It was a new voice that spoke, this time.

With a mighty shout, the power lurched forward from within the depths of his soul and projected outwards into a wall of magical energy. Hexagons of blue magic locked together, shielding a large radius in front of him. This wall would not fall.

He would be _unbroken_.

The roaring flames crashed against his barrier, pushing against his magic like a crazed bull. He dug his heels in pushing back against the flames. The barrage was unrelenting, but he would be _unyielding_. The sheer ambient heat was enough to uncomfortably cook his skin.

The flames only seemed to grow in size and force, and Jaune found himself slowly losing ground. He needed help. More power. He needed to protect himself and his allies.

Something clicked in the back of his mind. A ruler long since passed, one who was renowned for their mastery and innovation in the arcane arts. They could help.

He needed only…

" **Somnus! Come to me!"**

Somnus' familiar presence engulfed him. His prayer had been answered. Knowledge of the intricacies of magic flooded his mind, and with newfound clarity, he knew precisely what he had to do.

As if Somnus were standing right beside him, he fervently pushed back against the inferno. He would give it _no quarter_. As if he was viewing himself from outside his body, he pushed against the inferno once more, feeling as if some greater force was controlling his actions. It empowered him thus he released himself to his instincts.

With a mighty leap forward, the flames and world disappeared around him in a flash of purple-blue and the sound of shattering glass. Similar to how his ancestors appeared before him, he reappeared in front of the red woman, shock strewn across her face.

His ringed hand reached in front of him, even greater power coursing through his body. The veins in his had glowed like lava-streams, radiating with ancient power. Purple lightning sparked angrily and his fingertips.

The distance was closed.

The power was released.

 _No quarter._

 _No mercy._

* * *

 **Sorry it took so long to update. Took me quite awhile to find my muse while also figuring out which direction I wanted to take this story in. Most notably, you'd see that Jaune and Pyrrha aren't the primary pairing on this story any more. The pairing is pretty much up for grabs right now, but I do have a pretty good idea of which way I want to go with it. That's to say that Jaune and Pyrrha won't be a pairing, but I simply won't be announcing it from the launch of the story.**

 **I expect the next update to come out within the next few days or week or two. This chapter was a hump to get over for whatever reason, and it gave me a lot of time to find new referencing material while also getting plenty of new ideas to incorporate into the story.**

 **A few notes: Jaune's abilities are visually similar to that of warping in FFXV, though it's much closer to the theatrical version that's shown in the Kingsglaive movie. I'm sure plenty people will get turned off by the sudden John Doe "magic ex machina" that just occurred, but as I mentioned before, magic comes with a price. Well, that, and the same trick usually doesn't work twice.**

 **As always, thank you for your patience and your continued viewership. Any and all ideas are welcome. Chapter may have errors as this was not reviewed by a beta. Please feel free to post mistakes/corrections in reviews or PMs. Thank you!**

 **-Praelio**


	5. Arc I: Aymeric

_Arc 1: Chapter 5_  
 _Aymeric_

* * *

A familiar scene greeted him upon awakening. A swirling vortex of dark blue flames violently spun above him, transcending endlessly to the void above.

In truth, it was a rather beautiful sight.

In fact, it would have been more beautiful if he hadn't found himself here, presumably unconscious in the real world for the second time in less than an hour.

He slowly sat up, surprised when he felt no sense of adrenaline running through his body. No nerves. No anxiousness. There was a calming feeling of peace and serenity flowing through him. Taking a moment, he closed his eyes and embraced the feeling.

The sound of shattering glass paradoxically echoed throughout the dimension. By this point, he'd come to expect the sound.

"I see you've become acquainted with the tranquility this world provides." This voice was new. Carefree and scratchy.

Jaune opened his eyes to an unfamiliar face. A man with a rather young-looking face, but with hardened violet eyes that betrayed his boyish looks. Dark scruff lined his chin, matching his short and unruly dark hair. He wore simple leather armor that offered little to none protection, but plenty of mobility.

As someone who studied under a Pathfinder for over a year, he could appreciate that.

The man inclined his head, introducing himself. "Peregrinus Arc, The Wanderer. At your service."

"The… Wanderer?" Jaune asked.

"Indeed. Over the ages, each ruler was renowned for things that left a lasting mark on the kingdom. I myself was known as The Wanderer. I was quick like the wind and went where no man had gone before. I forsake the safety of Ishgard and ventured outwards, leaving behind a path for the future generations to follow. That very path just so happened to lead them to what you know today as Vale."

Jaune lost his composure for a minute, the realization slowly sinking in that this man was the _founder_ of Vale. Abruptly thrown off his internal balance, he allowed peace and serenity to wash over him once more. Quite handy, that.

"So, you're similar to a Pathfinder then. Or at least, the concept behind them."

"The first of few, in essence. I traveled the continent far and wide, creating magical safe havens throughout Sanus, providing other travelers protection from the forces of the Darkness." Peregrinus explained.

"You mentioned Ishgard. As in the "knights versus dragons of Grimm?" fairy tale Ishgard?"

Peregrinus let out a roaring laugh, Jaune's heart jumping through his chest in surprise.

" _Ha_! Grimm dragons! If only! Those tales are partially true, however those brave knights didn't fight _Grimm_ , they fought true dragons that made even the eldest Wyvern look like an ant!" Peregrinus jovially explained, starting to slowly pace in front of Jaune, his arms waving around as he spoke.

Jaune didn't even blink.

"Those weren't brave knights either by the way, they were _Dragoons!_ Fierce warriors who were born from the blood of a most primal wyym. Their very blood allowed them to slay wyrms with no competition. Ironic in a sense, but mind you, it was supremely effective. Combined with the magic granted to them by our family, these warriors could soar into the heavens and fight these beasts in their own territory- the sky!" Peregrinus was exuberant now, his enthusiasm growing as he told his tale.

"So. Real dragons were apparently a thing. History textbooks didn't mention that."

"Ishgard is a… guarded place, if you will. The kingdom itself is reclusive, built into a floating mountain of enormous proportions with naught but one bridge to connect it to the rest of the world."

"However, with the constant growth of the Grimm, many of these beasts were wiped out- the rest forced into hiding lest they become extinct."

' _I think I need to talk about something_ normal _before I lose what little is left of my sanity'_

"You mentioned our family granted these warriors our magic. If that were true, wouldn't there be a bunch of magic users running around the world? Wouldn't my sisters have it? My father? Myself? Well, before I found a magical ring deep in the forest, that is."

Logically, it would make sense. If magic ran through his bloodline, then it would only make sense that his closest family- namely his sisters and father would inherently have magic as well. Not to mention the descendants of these so-called Dragoons. Maybe the magic that had been granted to them was only temporary? Too many questions and not nearly enough answers.

"The royal family has always been able to grant their glaive a fraction of the arcane power that lies within the ring. However, there is a catch to it, if you will. The ring allows you to bless no more than three people with the magic it holds. In order to bless anyone else, the source of their power must come from elsewhere." With a gesture of his hand, a small projection of large, fragmented crystal appeared.

The crystal was large and inside it held galaxies of brilliantly colored stars. A truly endless fountain of the light. Extremely similar to the Ring, in fact.

"When the Brothers and other deities walked upon this world, magic was as commonplace as aura. Magical artifacts were aplenty, though the power of some dwarfed others. An artifact known as "The Crystal" was one such artifact that had been forged by the Elder Brother. This artifact was gifted to a legendary and righteous hero- one so pure of heart and soul that the brothers themselves though him capable of uniting humanity as one."

"Not to interrupt you, but could you clarify a few things for me?" If Peregrinus was offended at the interruption, he didn't show it, instead impassively nodding at him.

"Magic seems like it comes with a lot of catches. The Ring-" Jaune held up his hand and pointed to the piece of jewelry-" can bless only three people with a _fraction_ of its power. This Crystal, which supposedly has more magic in it, can do the same, but on a grander scale. What's the catch, though? If it were that easy, someone would've blessed an entire army and wiped out the Grimm by now," Jaune asked, though it was more of him translating his rambling thoughts into words rather than a posed question.

"I must say, I believe the others have underestimated how perceptive you are. I digress, though. Your hypothesis is correct, if not only slightly inaccurate. The Ring carries an extremely high potency of magic within it. Thus, while the blessings it can give are numbered, they are exponentially more powerful than those provided by the Crystal. The power the Ring bestows allows the usage of abilities that only Royal Family are typically capable of performing."

Jaune quickly summarized the rest for himself. "The less people blessed, the greater the power they have. Blessing a great number of people would only result in reducing the potency of magic. Bless too many, and the benefits may end up being completely useless."

Peregrinus gave a pleased nod. "Dare I ask where you received your wit from?" It was more of a rhetorical question, but Jaune took the opportunity to answer it nonetheless.

"I grew up with seven sisters, a partially absent father who abhorred the thought of training me, and a passive, indifferent mother. Mind you, this is also when I spent the better of two years of my life secretly training at the Huntsman Lodge without being allowed to unlock my aura.

I had to learn how to be deceptive and perceptive in a trial by fire. Arkend is a pretty big place, but trying to hide all of that from seven _nosy_ sisters for two years is a good learning experience as any. It's hard to put into words, but I didn't have the luxury of waiting for someone to give me the answers to all my problems- I had to figure it all out on my own, with no room for a second chance."

A thoughtful hum was his only response.

"We've been watching over you for quite a long time, young prince. While that may be true, there's also no denying while you may have been physically behind your peers, you certainly weren't behind them intellectually. It seems to have benefited you in the long run."

"So you're basically implying my brains up made up for me being a literal noodle."

"Precisely!" Peregrinus happily chirped.

Jaune's eye twitched.

"Let's get back to where we were, shall we?" Jaune all-too-happily obliged, preferring not to be thrown under the metaphorical bus by his ancestor again.

"As you may already know, a king is nothing without his allies. Huntsman or not, the ability to gift part of our powers to our allies makes for an extremely formidable force when trained. Tell me, what do you last remember during your battle?"

"I used the Ring, for starters. All I thought was 'I need to protect everyone' and then I saw a vision. It was like I was in the body of someone else in a similar situation, I guess. I saw them construct some sort of… barrier and I tried doing the same," Jaune explained.

"Yes! When Sophus mumbled on about all his "your ancestors stand with you" mumbo-jumbo, he wasn't kidding. We quite literally fight with you. What you saw was a memory of one of us during our lifetimes. The vision you saw was our way of teaching you what your needed in that extreme moment."

"You took it further than that, though. Didn't you?" Peregrinus questioned knowingly.

"I'm... not really sure. I remember projecting the barrier just like I had seen, but it wasn't enough. I had never used magic before- I didn't understand how to strengthen it. Frankly, I didn't understand how to do anything except stay still and pray not moving too much wouldn't break the barrier." Jaune quietly intoned.

"Yes. While your first attempt at creating a shield was well-done, it wasn't enough. So tell me, what happened next? What did _you_ do that allowed you to strengthen the shield as you did?"

"I remembered being told to trust my instincts. I was terrified of dying and I felt my mind drift, I guess. Sort of like when one of you talks to me in my mind. I needed to know how to make the shield stronger, and then the answer sort of just… well, came to me."

Peregrinus gave a pleased nod. "Recall what I said earlier about each ruler before you. They were known for something that defined their rule, whether it be a heroic feat or character trait. I was known as the Wanderer. Crepera was the Rogue. Sophus was the Wise. Callidus, the Clever. As the title implies, you can guess what knowledge and skills they specialized in."

"They weren't who you needed, though. Sure, they all could create shields that would put yours to shame in but the snap of their fingers, yet they couldn't teach you the innate workings of the skill. Which parts of the spell itself to change in order to modify it to your needs. So, you instinctually called out to the person who could. The Mystic." The name had been said with a certain reverence to it, one Jaune didn't miss.

"The Mystic?"

"Somnus Arcus, The Mystic. Believe me when I say that _no one_ understands magic better than him. It's why he was known as the Mystic. His mastery of the arcane arts made him a myth to even the most wizened magic-users of his time. Of course, you could expect no less from the Founder King himself," Peregrinus explained.

"In your time of most dire need, you reached out to Somnus. In listening to your instincts without fail, your opened your mind, body, and soul to us. Doing so allowed Somnus to fight as one with you, lending you his knowledge and strength as if it were your own. If you weren't capable of completely trusting your instincts as you did, I would venture to say you surely would have died. To call upon one of us in such a manner takes a trust so intimate and unquestionable. Your ability to do so saved your life, and that of your comrades."

"If your need any further proof, recall what happened afterwards. You near-instantaneously closed the distance between yourself and your attacker, striking back with your Elemancy. To be able to do these things at such a high level of proficiency takes months, if not years of dedicated training. You did so in less than a minute. Not without a price, though. Can you guess as to what that price is?"

Jaune thoughtfully hummed. "I performed techniques far beyond my skill level with no prior training. I imagine it's similar to pulling a muscle because you didn't stretch it beforehand."

Peregrinus nodded. "Magic is powerful, but it is not all-powerful. The Ring is one of the most powerful mediums one could wield when using magic. As you simplified, one cannot simply sprint before they crawl. You must become accustomed to magic and its fundamentals. Practice will garner you greater control over it, while simultaneously lessening the burden of casting it."

"Allow me to show you." Fire sparked in the Wanderer's hand, quickly morphing to lightning which raced across his fingertips. "Elemancy, the art of manipulating the elements. In your recent battle, you called out to lightning subconsciously. You show great promise in that aspect of Elemancy."

The lighting dispersed, replaced by a fair-sized knife, which Peregrinus blindly threw behind him. It hit the floor with a clang and in the blink of an eye, his ancestor disappeared in a beautiful shower of purple sparks and flames. Like embers from a fire, they drifted to the ground, bouncing around in energized sparks. Looking up, Jaune saw his ancestor immediately reappear over the knife in the same fashion.

"Warping. Arguably one of the most versatile of the arts we've been gifted. The ability to throw a weapon and simultaneously warp to its location. The ability to close the distance or make distance between your opponent in a fight near-instantaneously. In some cases, it can be used in close combat to continually confuse and flank your opponent. While not limited to a weapon you will find it most easy to warp using an object as a medium, such as a weapon, rather than nothing."

Peregrinus walked towards Jaune, who stood in mild awe. It seemed the boy was quickly adjusting to the reality of things. Good.

"Without even a modicum of training in the arcane, you used both of these abilities at a level that you should be incapable of performing at. Think of it as trying to fire a cannonball through your gun. Except, replace the cannonball with magic and the gun with yourself as the medium. That is what you subjected your body to just now."

"Yikes." How eloquent.

Peregrinus allowed himself a small grin. "Yikes indeed. You can't be faulted for acting on instinct in a life-or-death moment like that. To be technical, it was Somnus who was guiding your actions. He wouldn't have guided you to perform what you did on the scale that you did unless it was necessary."

Jaune sighed. "A sore body is an insignificant price to pay for life."

"Quite." Holding up the knife before him, it turned a translucent blue before it vanished in a glow of translucent blue. In the same manner, a much larger double-sided sword took its place.

"This magic shit is really starting to get ridiculous." Jaune rolled his eyes, but the twinkle in them betrayed his words.

Peregrinus chuckled. "Inter-dimensional storage. The most convenient of our abilities. The power to store most things in another dimension, not so dissimilar to this one, and to call upon it at will. Simultaneously, this is what you will use to store the Armiger."

"I'm sorry- the what now?" Jaune deadpanned.

Peregrinus paused, giving Jaune a thoughtful look. "You may consider this to be one of the first of your many trials on your quest to reclaim the throne."

"Scattered across Sanus are royal tombs, precisely like the one you discovered the Ring in. Inside these tombs are the resting place of your ancestors- and in said resting places lay the Royal Arms. These are exceptionally powerful. They are forged from what you know as Vytalian Steel and imbued with our very souls, along with magic from the Ring. The collection of these weapons is called the Armiger. The greater your collection of these arms, the greater your power." Peregrinus explained.

Jaune sat on the ground, loudly sighing in exasperation.

"I have so many questions, but it sounds like I've finally got some form of direction to start this suicide mission." With a roll of his eyes, he stood again, slowly pacing in circles.

"Getting in contact with Ozpin is priority number one. There's still a month before the semester begins, so that should give me at least a little bit of time on starting to track down the Royal Arms."

"Then, I just need to overthrow the entire council and reclaim the throne. Right. No big deal at all. Cakewalk." Sarcasm rolled from his voice.

"Ozpin and his allies will aid you through the political warfare and logistics. The key behind this is you, Jaune. Your grandfather and father refused our call and our Kingdom has suffered because of it. The council that now touts themselves as the just and benevolent rulers of the kingdom must be disposed of, no matter the cost. They were created for the explicit purpose of assisting the king in ruling, not ruling it themselves so they can run our legacy into the ground!" Peregrinus growled out.

Jaune stopped in his tracks, turning to look at his ancestor. "What exactly do you mean they _refused_ your call?" he questioned.

The now-familiar sound of warping caught his attention, and he turned to face the armored visage of Crepera.

"It is precisely as he said. It is also precisely the same reason your father refused to give you training. He is naught but a spineless coward who turned his back on his life and legacy! Instead, he totes around as some skewed vision of a war hero, fighting a losing battle against the Grimm. The small-minded fool believes simply killing the Grimm is enough to protect humanity. As if! For every beast slain, _she_ will simply create a hundred more to take its place!" Crepera was livid, slowly invading his personal space inch by inch. Jaune took a step forward, challenging her lumbering form.

Jaune's eyes narrowed. While he and his father had their notable differences, Artorian was still his father and someone he held a tremendous amount of respect for. Past ruler or not, no one would dare speak ill of his family in such a manner. No after all his father had sacrificed to defend Remnant.

Speaking in a mockery of the same prose his ancestors used when he first met them, he challenged Crepera, "How noble of you to insult my father, oh great _ancestor_. How great and powerful thou must hath been in your time that I stand here before thou in some alternate reality, speaking to thy restless spirit!" He said loudly, stepping up toe-to-toe with the giant. No one dared to insult his family in such a manner. Especially the long-since-departed.

"Watch thy tongue, lest I flay it from your corpse, boy! You know nothing of sacrifices I have made for thy family, the deeds I have done to ensure that thou even had the opportunity to stand before us to begin with." She retorted gravely, bending over to peer into Jaune's eyes.

"Yes, thou must hath done a world of good if all thou hast to show for it is thy rotting corpse and thy tormented soul haunting thy descendants! Sending me on a suicide mission was an inglorious way to touch it up!" He raised himself to the tips of his toes, closing whatever distance he could between them.

Her armored form shook with unbridled rage that he could feel rolling off her in waves. It was staggering, freezing him in place. She stepped back, summoning two shurikens the size of his body into each of her hands.

On instinct alone, Jaune reached out towards Peregrinus, his unique double-bladed glaive appearing in his hand with a dazzling flash of blue.

He would not yield to the dead.

"Thou are but a babe with no training, no discipline, no respect, and naught a clue about the depths of the power thou hath been granted! With a weapon that is not thy own, thou dare to raise a blade in opposition of me? Thou will pay for such arrogance! Thou fate shall be naught but death!" Crepera's armored form hummed with rage and power, the depths of which he had only felt when drawing on the magics within the ring.

He readied his borrowed weapon nonetheless. He knew that a fight with Crepera would end only one way, but he would never forgive himself if he sat idly by while someone attacked his family in such a manner. Even if it was coming from his own family.

"If you proclaim my fate is naught but death, then I shall render that fate asunder, and break it with my own two hands!" Jaune angrily retorted.

Pushing serenity and peace from his thoughts, he allowed himself to revel in his emotions, allowing his drive to protect his family's name and anger towards his ancestors to fuel his courage. Purple sparks of lightning intermittently sparked from his fingertips, his body humming with the ancient eldritch within the Ring.

His blood pumped through his heart in rapid, hammering beats. His body and mind tingled in anticipation, the dopamine and adrenaline that could only be the result of a battle about to ensue causing his body to vibrate in palpable excitement.

Crepera moved with a boom, the flawless marble floor left cracked and cratered from the sheer power of her launch. His eyes could barely perceive her form rushing towards him. He hastily raised his glaive to cover his upper body, praying his prediction of where she would attack was true.

Before her mighty shurikens could collide with his sword, a blur appeared in his periphery. Crepera's shurikens collided with something, but whatever that something was, it wasn't his. A man of tall stature appeared in front of him, his long and wild dark hair gently swaying before him. He held a beautifully intricate spear above his head with one hand, blocking both of Crepera's massive shurikens with minimal effort.

With inhuman speed the man spun the glaive above his head, scoring a blow against Crepera' chest, staggering her guard. A fireball formed in his other hand. Without hesitation, he placed his hand on her abdomen, flames roaring at the contact. Crepera's hulking form was sent flying through the air, harshly landing on the marbled floor in an uncontrolled roll.

She quickly recovered, using a hand to steady herself, flipping to her feet. "Aymeric." She growled. "How like your namesake of you to go running to the aid of the unworthy. What a _savior_ you truly are!" She spat, rising to her feet.

Ignoring the seething woman, Aymeric turned to face Jaune. Unlike his wandering ancestor, the man had warm, yet pale grey-blue eyes. His face was that of a young adult's, but strewn with a weariness that was typically only seen in people twice his age. Curiously enough, he stood a full head taller than Jaune and had… pointy ears?

"You'll have to forgive our dearest Crepera. You see, she can be… difficult to deal with, sometimes. You did well to stand your ground, young prince. You certainly did a wonderful job of riling her up. What a true bit of entertainment this was." His voice was moderately deep and airy. There was an unmistakable playful tone to it, showing how he obviously reveled in taunting Crepera.

With a snap of his fingers, a wall of blue flames separated the distance between Crepera themselves. Jaune looked around him, Peregrinus nowhere to be seen.

"You've heard my name, but permit me to stand on ceremony and introduce myself nonetheless. Aymeric Arc. In my time, I reforged the broken city of Ishgard and lead the Dragoons into battle against Nidhogg, rage incarnate."

"You have many questions that you've received naught but vague answers and half-truths to." Aymeric extended his hand, a kind smile gracing his face. "Come. Walk with me and allow me to enlighten you." Jaune took it readily, vanishing in a shower of flames and sparks.

* * *

Headmaster Ozpin Perseus Izunia sat comfortably in his office high atop Beacon's tower. A steaming cup of hot chocolate sat on his desk, which was surprisingly clear of paperwork for a change. At the prime -for a Huntsman at least- age of 35, he could soundly say that life was good.

He stood up, slowly walking around the circumference of his office. He tuned out the conversation on his desk's projected screen. It seemed that the good General Ironwood Of Atlas was getting into another heated debate with the kind Headmaster of Haven Academy, Leonardo Lionheart. He imagined the Headmistress of Shade Academy in Vacuo, Lady Ta'li of the Sleeping Sands was thoroughly enjoying their bickering. He certainly did.

"I'm telling you Leonardo, what you're suggesting is not going to be a viable solution!" Oh. It seemed the General was getting a bit too worked up again.

"Now now, I'm sure Leo's intentions are-" Ozpin stopped short.

His golden eyes widened in shock. His mug and cane slipped from his hands, one clattering to the floor, and the other smashing into pieces with the unmistakable sound of a thousand mirrors breaking at once. He stood still as a statue. The Light _surged_ through him, stronger than he had ever felt it in the many centuries he had been alive. The force of it nearly sent him to his knees.

 _Light. Resurgence. Boundless. Unbroken._

Ozpin reached his senses out, attempting to gain clarity on what the Light was showing him.

The reply was clear.

 _King._

The Light embraced him, warming him to his core in a way he hadn't felt in centuries. The last time the Light had been this strong, he was leading a band of his faithful companions in a great war against the lesser Astral deities. It quickly left his senses, continuing to pulse outwards as far as he could see, soon passing over the horizon.

He smiled.

"Uh-oh. I think his brain finally caught up with his hair color," Ta'Li stage whispered.

"Did you feel it?" Ozpin asked, his exuberant smile failing to falter.

"Feel what, Ozpin?"Leonardo asked, his face etched with concern.

"It would appear that an ally long thought lost has returned to the stage for the final act." The smile didn't disappear from his face, but he reigned in his emotions.

The other headmasters shared a concerned look amongst themselves.

Ozpin continued to smile to himself.

* * *

 _Cold._

That was the first thought in Jaune's mind as he stood high above the clouds. Beneath him was the expanse of a large city, largely made of finely-cut stone and beautifully stained glass. Some wooden buildings were thrown into the mix, but the incredible craftsmanship of this city's masonry was unparalleled by anything he'd seen before.

Far to the south, he could make out the vestiges of Beacon Tower, warm colors of the sunset shining through the green glass in all directions. Beautiful snow-capped mountains spanned outwardly in an endless expanse.

How long?

How long had Beacon Tower stood, shining its light for leagues unending? Was this the desperately clung-to hope that the people of the Dark Ages sought strength in? Was it what the current people of Remnant sought?

A wave of melancholy eclipsed within him. It didn't belong to him, no, but the feeling echoed deep within his soul. There was a greatness that had been lost in this city, in this continent as a whole.

Soft footsteps clacked gently against the stone balcony he stood upon. He turned, looking up into Aymeric's eyes. The melancholy resonated within him once more, a mirror echo of the pained expression on Aymeric's face. A cold, bitter wind blew, jostling his dark hair.

"Once upon a time, this city was besieged by dragons for hundreds of years. We lived under the corrupt rule of a fanatical and power-obsessed king who would stop at nothing to slay the wyrms, even if it meant the continuation of a pointless war for generations to come."

"How ironic that in your time, a time wherein my people dreamed of a better future free of conflict, it is naught but rife with it? An endless battle against the Grimm. An endless battle against humans. Against faunus. Against races that humanity has yet to re-encounter simply because they cannot move beyond their walls. This world has so much to offer, but what is the point in ever attempting to seize it if humanity cannot stand united?"

"How long has that man walked this realm attempting to do just that? Fate is harsh, indeed."

Slowly walking over to the stone guardrail, Aymeric leaned against it, his figure blocking out the rays of sunset from Jaune's vision.

"You remind me of a dear friend, to be honest. A travelling warrior fleeing from their land, seeking refuge in the shadow of Ishgard. A nobody, at first. Here was I, illegitimate son of the King. Commander of the Knights. In a position of power I never asked for. Never would I have thought that wandering traveler to perform the deeds they did."

"Revealing the truth behind the centuries-old conflict with the dragons. Defending a land and a people not his own, whom he owed nothing to against my tyrannical father. Time and time again risking everything for nothing in return. When Nidhogg controlled the body of my closest friend, he stopped at nothing to save him. In the very end, he tried to spare and save the soul of rage incarnate, still believing he could see the good within him. Estinien had been saved. Isghard had been saved. Peace was struck between the dragons and Ishgard."

"In the end, he saved us all. In my last act as the acting head-of-state, I disbanded the theocracy that had driven our country for so long. In its place, the people could form their own republic- they could have their own choice in how their lives and country were led. I could step down, give my people what they truly wanted. _Freedom_."

"Ironically enough, that weary traveler stood faithfully with my people when they rallied behind me to become their new leader. I never wanted such responsibility or power. The popularity, the recognition. I never wanted it."

"I looked to my friend. The End of Ascalon. The Blood Dragoon. The end of the Dragonsong war, slayer of Nidhogg, rage and vengeance incarnate. I saw the look on his face. The same one you so frequently wear. And I understood. I understood that fate had never choose anything for me. I had shaped my own destiny."

"In return, I would be the destiny that my people shaped for themselves."

Aymeric took a long breath, a warm cloud of air gently being swept away by the soft currents of the cold wind.

"I have waited centuries, hoping that my next descendant would be the last to be weighed down by this prophecy. That the next would be the one to defeat the dark queen. The end of the Grimm. Uniter of humanity. Of course, they never were able to, though that was never any fault of their own."

"But you, Jaune… _You…_ "

"I see things in you. Things since your very childhood. I've seen the hardships you've pushed through. The loss you've endured. The naive idealism just realistic and cynical enough to be what this world needs. Other rulers would waste centuries so their will would be imposed on the next child of light. That this war be won on their terms, and no others. I have watched for far too long as we've lost this war ourselves."

"We are all dead. We played our part. Mine was becoming the embodiment of hope and change my people needed. Who are we to tell you how to face your destiny, if such a thing even truly exists?"

"The others would have you run in circles, collecting the royal arms. Amassing your strength. Uniting a merry band of followers to challenge the queen. The same tactics. The same tragic end. You are the change. This war ends with you, Jaune."

"On this day, and never again shall you follow the old ones. Heed their advice, but shape your destiny with your own two hands. Tear fate asunder. Spit in the face of death and carve your own path towards the future."

Aymeric slowly stepped in front of Jaune, a familiar spear materializing in his ancestor's outstretched hands. It was a wicked thing, sleek and dark with a faint blue pulsing glow to it. Runic markings ran along the shaft and blades of the weapon. Its point was sharp, not dissimilar to a large needle. A weapon surely to pierce the hide of any wyrm or Grimm. Two intricate, bladed wings decorated the base of the blade, sharply curved on the blades and blunted on the inside.

"This is Gae Bolg, the Lance of Destiny. 'Twas by this blade that the Dragonsong war was ended. It is blessed by the light and shall smite away the darkest of evils. Unlike the other Royal Arms, this weapon is not locked away in a tomb. It sits atop the throne of Ishgard, passed down from generation to generation, awaiting the champion of light to retrieve it so that it may destroy the darkness once more."

Jaune gently took the weapon into his hands. It slowly phased away in a calming swirl of purple and blue sparks. He felt what was akin to a hammer striking a tempering piece of metal on the anvil within his soul. In a paradoxical manner, he felt a partial sense of completion within him. A puzzle piece that yet left an unfinished mystery.

"You have formally received my soul and my blessing of my Royal Arm. You must now claim the glaive for yourself. I will be with you when you awaken to answer your questions and to begin your training."

"These are your first steps, young Prince."

* * *

Beacon Academy was truly a grand and marvelous place. It didn't quite compare to Ishgard, but was something to behold in its own way.

There was a flurry of hustle and bustle around him as new potential students hurried along with their luggage. Many narrowly avoided colliding with each other as they tried to navigate the large crowd in the airship plaza. If nothing else, it was rather entertaining to watch.

Rather than fighting through the horde of students disembarking from the airships, he sat contentedly on the wing of a rather large transport-variant Bullhead. He rested his arm on his knee, his free leg dangling off the side. The winged blade that decorated the posterior of his greaves clinked gently against the hard metal of the ship intermittently, the sound drowned by the commotion below.

He played with the interlocking pieces on his gauntlets to pass the time, toying with small arm-blades that mirrored his greaves. Eventually, once satisfied that the crowd had dissipated enough, he vaulted off his seat, the twenty foot fall billowing his cloak around him. He landed with a quiet clink of his greaves and started at a leisurely pace towards the auditorium.

Gae Bolg comfortably rested on his back, the weight of the weapon grounding himself in the here and now. While he had the ability to store the weapon away in his small pocket dimension, courtesy of the Ring, he much preferred to keep the weapon on him. Plus, it wouldn't do to go pulling weapons out of thin air so soon. A certain level of secrecy had to be maintained, even here at Beacon. The enemy could have spies anywhere. Drawing undue attention to himself would surely work against him down the road for his more long-term plans.

He looked up towards Beacon's tower, eyeing the marvel he had seen atop the peak of Ishgard a month ago.

' _It was not too long ago that I watched you gaze out at this tower as you fell from the heights of Ishgard. I can't quite remember if you were left speechless by the sight of it, or if it was due to the fact that you were falling miles towards the Remnant again.'_

Oh Aymeric, what a _joyous_ entertainment you are.

"Well, if you would have told me that you were going to throw me down twenty-five thousand feet to my death in order for me to learn the art of the Dragoon, maybe I wouldn't have been so shell-shocked."

' _Where's the fun in that?'_

Jaune pointedly ignored his ancestor, walking with measured steps towards the large building ahead of him that held the auditorium. Aymeric's presence gently vanished from his mind, his ancestor preferring to leave him to his own devices. For the most part, Jaune had taken to keeping his other ancestors at the background of his mind, scarcely conversing with the few that had presented themselves to him.

Sophus and Peregrinus sometimes spoke to him and he was almost positive he had managed to reach out to the Founder King once, but it was mostly Aymeric he turned to for guidance. This quest of his was something that he had to be able to conduct on his own. The advice of his ancestors would always be welcome, but his family line was the personification of history repeating itself in dreadful failure.

It seemed the ancestors that watched over him diligently felt the same as him. Unlike that day in the forest weeks ago, he never felt the brash intrusion of his ancestors in his mind. They were content in letting him find his own way. For now, at least.

On the other hand, he had learned much about the history of this world and its inhabitants. Far more than any history book could explain. The days he spent at the Holy See of Isghard were full of vigorous training provided by Aymeric and amazingly, the people who still inhabited the floating nation. The other part was filled with learning as much as he could about the world.

Forgotten races. Cities and kingdoms lost to time. The millenniums-long war between the Witch and the Wizard. It was in these truths that Jaune saw why Crowley became a Pathfinder. The idea that Crowley might find a "lost" civilization such as Ishgard would be a turning point in history. Of course, there were and are reasons that Ishgard remained secluded from the rest of Remnant. Things would stay that way for now. It was safer for the Ishgardian people if the Witch continued to believe they were but a relic of the past.

Humanity was far from ready to unite in such a way. The Huntsman Lodge was the closest thing to the only acceptable unified force ready to be used in such lengths. There would come a time when the people of the continent would unite, but it was not now. No, Vale was the first step. The council would have to be rendered obsolete one way or another. His very birth and blood-right or not, they would never relinquish their power held over the Kingdom.

Not unless their hand was forced.

All in due time.

Jaune stopped suddenly, nearly colliding with the person in front of him. In his internal ramblings, it appeared that he had lost track of his surroundings. He could already hear Crowley admonishing him from beyond the grave.

His quick reaction was for naught as another person bumped into him from behind, the inevitable effect of such an event causing him to stumble into the person in front of him. A surprised yelp caught his attention as he quickly caught his balance. He grumbled at the person who was already quickly walking away from him.

He glanced down to the figure that sat before him, white as snow, her icy, venomous glare leveled evenly at him disdain. Her eyes were a dazzling hue of blue, pale as a winter's sky - even more beautiful than the crystal fields of Coerthas. Her soft, porcelain skin was free of blemishes, only boasting an angry scar that trailed across her left eye. Recent, judging by how red and tender it appeared.

He gazed into her eyes, feeling his heart quicken and his very soul resonating with the girl before him. She must have felt it as well, as her venomous glare eased into something more akin to disdained confusion. His soul sung a great song and it was then that he knew why he was experiencing this inexplicable feeling. It would appear that the blood of dragons ran through this girl's veins as it did he. As so Aymeric's blood contained that of wyrms, so was it passed down through the generations unto he. This girl's blood was leagues more potent with it than his own, though.

He would ponder this later.

He reached a hand out to the woman sat before him. "Apologies, miss?" he asked, matching her inquisitive gaze with his own.

Her delicate, soft hand grasped his and with no effort he assisted the fair maiden to her feet. She stood a full head and half below him, albeit proudly and with a measured grace to her movements.

"Weiss Schnee. A prestigious institution such as this would require a modicum of grace on your feet, would it not, mister?" The question was matched with an accusatory glare that raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

"Jaune Arc. I must say that your question is better off being answered by the countless numbers of people here who can't seem to help but run into everyone" he evenly replied.

"You mean like you just did to me?"

"I did not run into you. I stumbled," he retorted with some small amount of indignation.

Her unmarred eye twitched ever so imperceptibly.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood even straighter.

He watched the expressions imperceptibly change across her face as she attempted to calm herself.

' _Oh, she'll be even more fun to rile up than Crepera!'_ a jubilant voice exclaimed in the back of his mind. To be frank, Aymeric probably wasn't wrong.

"So, Arc is it? I assume by your appearance you hold relation to Sir Artorian?"

Jaune's carefree expression dropped, the narrowing of his eyes anything but subtle. He could feel the frown etching itself across his lips, helpless to stop it.

'Sir _Artorian, huh? Always the righteous hero, aren't you,_ Father?'

"I do, by no infinitesimal amount of unfortunate providence." The edge in his voice was harsher than he expected, but Weiss merely raised an eyebrow in response to his mannerisms.

He should be better than this by now. Not weighed down by his own personal grievances with his family.

"In the same return, I would assume you hold relation to Jacques Schnee?" He already knew the answer, but turning the tables back over to the white-haired girl would ease his restless emotions.

"You would be correct. Jacques Schnee of the Schnee Dust Company and House Schnee would be my father," she replied. The pompous attitude he'd expected to hear her words with were surprisingly absent, instead replaced by some grudging form of respect, or was it disdain. My, what a beautifully crafted mask she maintained.

"By no infinitesimal amount of unfortunate providence," she added.

' _Oh, I like this one.'_

Jaune cracked a cheeky grin at both the girl before him and Aymeric's comment. "I dare not presume, but it seems we have a mutual understanding o _familial_ complications, Miss Schnee."

Very cheeky indeed.

"It would appear as such, Mister Arc," she returned with a small, but noticeable twitch of her lips.

They were interrupted by the sound of a mic being tapped and a subtle clearing of the throat. His attention was reluctantly torn from the beautiful woman in front of him to the white-haired man at center stage.

He could feel the waves of Light rolling off of this man in bounds, the sheer volume of it enough to make goosebumps rise along his arms. This was him, then. The Hero with no Fear. Adviser to the Founder King. The Great Wizard. The slayer of Nidhogg. Liberator of the Far East. Headmaster. Pathfinder. Lord Commander.

"Greetings and welcome to Beacon Academy. For those unaware, I am Ozpin Izunia, the headmaster of this school." His eyes wandered across the sea of students before him, eventually locking with Jaune's. The Light _sung_ around them as Ozpin studied Jaune.

Ignoring the awkward pause that Ozpin appeared unperturbed by, he continued.

 _"Woe, but humble monuments to creation we are, for everything that is splendid and great stands at the end of incalculable chance and mayhem."_

Familiar words.

"A friend from a long time since past told me those words once. Even to this day, I still ponder his words and their meaning. I see two truths within. One, that we are all but small pieces compared to the cosmic order of the universe. Two, that of this cosmic order, we stand here as great agents of change. Incalculable. Unpredictable. Your own hard work brought you here. For others, their innate talent carried them to great heights. Never predictable, though. Always changing is our world."

"I ask this of you. What is the defining characteristic of a Huntsman? Some of you will speak of our skill in slaying monsters. Others, the charity and hope we spread throughout the kingdom. All of these may be true, yet they do not define what we are at our core. Would any of you care to guess what that is?"

Students broke out in quiet mumbles. Some were confused and unsure. Others began discussing between themselves.

Jaune looked down at his own two hands and the ring that sat on his finger. And with no hesitation, he raised his hand up high, much to the surprise of the girl next to him.

As if a conductor had begun to silence the orchestra, the mumbles turned into hushed whispers, which dissipated into a deafening silence.

Ozpin stretched a hand out to him, giving him the metaphorical floor to speak.

"I can do many things with my own hands. I can slay monsters. I can defend the downtrodden. I can scour the wilds, forging a new path forward for humanity like those who came before us. I can defend the kingdoms from within against those who would use their abilities irresponsibly. I can do all of these things, yet it would change nothing," Jaune said, his voice clear and echoing throughout the large chamber.

"We've been losing this war for centuries. Our territories shrink by the years. Our communities, divided, our kingdoms, fractured. This vicious cycle has been repeating itself long before the Huntsman Order was founded. This cycle will not change, and we will inevitably lose to the fate that awaits us when the wheel ceases to turn.

"But… with these two hands, I can defy that fate. I can take hold of the path before me and shape it to what I want it to be. I needn't be beholden to that cruel fate. With these two hands, I will tear fate asunder. I will break this fate set before me, and with my two hands, I will claw us away out of this cycle that has entrapped us for so long. Maybe that's all we need. Ever needed, really. A little bit of hope and a lot of determination.

"Huntsmen make their own fate. That's what defines us."

Ozpin's lips turned upwards. With measured movements, he brought his hands together and clapped.

"I could have spoken it no truer than that. Indeed, this is what defines a Huntsman. We shall never be beholden to fate. You've come to this place from far and wide. From the shifting sands of Vacuo to the great hanging cities of Mistral, you have all come to this place, at this moment in time. These are your first steps to forging your own fate. It is up to you to take them."

With that, Ozpin gave an imperceptible nod to the congregation before him, his eyes lingering ever so noticeably on Jaune. A blonde woman took the stage in lieu of its conductor, but he tuned her out, already lost within his own mind.

At some point he knew he'd have a confrontation- nay, not confrontation, but _discussion_ , with Ozpin. The man was his family's most loyal ally for well over three millennia. It wasn't that he was afraid of the man. As embarrassing as it was to admit it to himself, he was worried that he'd not meet the man's perceived expectations of him.

His lineage was that of incredible warriors. Yet here he stood amongst a crowd of people his own age that had years of training on him. There was a larger part of him yet that questioned this.

He trained under a Pathfinder for over two years. He worked, lived, and slept amongst seasoned Huntsmen on the very fringes of humanity's territory on the Saunan continent. As incomplete as it was, his training under the Azure Dragoon, Aymeric had been extremely fruitful. What was there to truly worry about, then?

His forgotten acquaintance beside him cleared her throat, relieving him of his internal musings. He looked over at Weiss, returning her cocked eyebrow with one of his own.

"If you're quite finished admiring the vanish of the stage, I do believe I am owed a debt from your brutish mannerism earlier. As such, I will collect said debt by having you accompany me to the cafeteria," she said, quickly turning on her heel and briskly marching off, leaving no room for debate.

Shrugging his shoulders, he trailed after his white-haired acquaintance, albeit at a much more leisurely pace.

* * *

That was how Jaune Arc had found himself seated across a cafeteria table from Weiss Schnee, heiress to the Schnee Dust Company. Their only company was the meager salad placed before her and the small sandwich that sat beneath his steepled hands.

"So, how does a member of one of the four noble Atlesian houses find herself at Vale's academy for Huntsmen-to-be? Too cold-blooded to stay in Atlas anymore?" Jaune asked.

If she found his quip antagonistic, she didn't show it. Her face was an impassive mask, probably honed over years of involvement in the high society of Atlas. He couldn't imagine growing up in such a way.

"How does the scion of the Arc find his lonesome way to Beacon Academy? Pray forgive if I offend, but I wasn't aware that there was a male in the family."

' _Touchy about home and why she's here, isn't she?'_ Jaune pondered. The light feeling in the back of his mind told him that Aymeric had agreed.

Jaune took a bite of his sandwich, faux pondering the question for a moment. "Having seven sisters tends to steal the limelight away from you. I also wasn't the most… involved with familial affairs to begin with. Coupled with my father and I not seeing see eye-to-eye on my training led me to find my path elsewhere, which distanced me from the family further."

Her impassive mask faltered for a moment, the surprise at the frank honesty of his answer evident. She nodded her head once, distractedly poking at the salad before her.

"If you don't mind me inquiring, where did your path end up taking you?"

"Well, over some bumpy roads, winding curves, and rather precipitous heights if I were to be honest." He could already feel Crowley's trademark roguish grin gracing his face.

Weiss scoffed, but it wasn't hard to miss her obviously upturned lips.

"Pray forgive if I offend, but I was under the impression you Atlas nobility folks, namely the Schnee, were a little more _abrasive_ in nature."

"You're a very straightforward person, aren't you?" Weiss retorted.

"I'm many things."

"Yes, well. I suppose you wouldn't be wrong to say as such. I lived and breathed that attitude for almost the entirety of my life. Yet, here I am in a new kingdom with a rather open road of opportunity before me. Here, I am not Weiss Schnee, heiress to the SDC, but Weiss Schnee, Huntress-in-training."

Jaune rose from his seat, locking eyes with the heiress before him. He studied her, attempted to pick apart the carefully constructed mask of Atlesian high society before him. Instead, he looked into her icy-blue eyes. He tuned out the world around him, allowing the Light to flow through his senses and decipher the mystery before him.

 _Prisoner. Chains. Determination. Rage. Rebellion. Freedom._

In her eyes, he saw the swirling flame of a caged wyrm, read to break free and take the world by storm.

The roguish grin returned tenfold.

"My name is Jaune Arc, Huntsman-in-training. It's a pleasure to meet you."

An outstretched hand.

An inquisitive gaze, and a small yet beautiful smile that brightened the angelic features of her face like the rising sun.

"Weiss Schnee, Huntress-in-training. The pleasure is mine."

Her soft hand took his.

The red threads of fate wove together intricately, the fate of the world forever changed.

* * *

Jaune had bid his newfound friend farewell a short while earlier. With the promise of finding her later tonight, he left her to her devices while he walked the campus grounds. He relished the soft breeze and the early rays of sunset soon come. Crowley's cloak gently tussled behind him.

The Light shifted around him. He looked up at the path before him and so stood the Headmaster. The Warrior of Light.

"I wondered how long it was going to take you to catch me out like this."

"If it makes you feel better, you did mysteriously escape the last time my agent came in contact with you."

Jaune walked forward before the man who stood a head taller than him. Ozpin's golden eyes pierced his very soul, deciphering the mysteries within that Jaune himself had yet to solve. His hair was a graying, tousled mess. His black and dark-green suit was immaculately cleaned, creased, and ironed.

Something told Jaune that it wasn't any work of Ozpin's that his clothes appeared as such.

"We've much to speak about, your highness."

* * *

 **Yeah, so remember that part where I said the next update would only be a few weeks away? Haha, yeah. Funny story.**

 **Looking to update a little more frequently (yes, I mean it this time) now. As always, please review with your comments and criticisms!**


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